Hope is the Thing with Feathers
by LeeMarieJack
Summary: Sam Campbell is a Hunter and Mystic. Dean Winchester is a collector and purveyor of Rare and Occult Items. They meet at an auction where Dean is selling and Sam is defusing Dean's haunted merchandise. They don't like each other. From conflict comes passion M/M Slash SMUT FEST Warning
1. Chapter 1 - A Coastal Hotel

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 1**

**A Coastal Hotel**

A young man approached the Hotel desk. He was tall and fair skinned with soft chestnut hair falling in waves in his face like curtains, concealing his eyes. As he reached for the register and spun it around he flipped the hair back out of his face. Now I could clearly see his slanted, fox-tail shaped, hazel colored eyes. They were delicate, intelligent and very, very tired.

"Good evening, sir, Welcome to the Gladstone Hotel. My name is David." I said mimicking a well-trained front desk clerk. "How can I help you tonight?"

"I'm going to need a room for all nights of the auction," he answered, hiding a yawn behind a polite hand, "actually, through Monday night also if you have the space."

"Very good, sir. We have a block of rooms set aside for the auction attendees. Are you pre-registered?"

He looked surprised. Now that he had pushed the hair back I could see his face clearly. It was a sculptured, handsome face. A competent hair-dresser could do a lot with this guy.

"I didn't realize it was necessary." he answered. "Is it going to be a problem?"

"No, no, of course not," I said. "Just sign in and I'll find you a room in just a minute. Do you have any preferences?"

He thought for a moment then answered as he signed the register. "I would like a room at the end of a hallway, next to the staircase, if possible. I think facing the ocean would be nice and I noticed you have rooms with small balconies. Can I get one of those? No higher than the second floor, please."

"Very well," I spun the register and looked at his name. "Mr. Addison. Just give me a moment."

"David," he said "I am here at the request of your Manager, Mr. Gardner. Is he available?"

I buzzed Mr. Gardner in his office and told him there was a Mr. Addison waiting to talk to him. I was surprised when Mr. Gardner said "David, good, I've been waiting for him. Give him what he wants and the hotel is picking up his tab. Make sure to give him a dining room pass."

I have to admit I was interested. Mr. Gardner wasn't a scrooge but he did account for every penny. Free rooms, let alone free food, just didn't happen very day. Now my curiosity was stung into full alert.

"Mr. Addison, " I cleared my throat, "our Mr. Gardner will be out in a moment. Please take a seat."

I watched the guy walk away and he looked as good going away as he did coming forward. We had this large group coming over the weekend to attend an Auction of Rare and Occult Items, whatever that meant, and for just a moment I wondered if he might just be a hooker supplied by the Hotel for special guests.

Hey, it had happened before. Usually though the hookers were woman and were part of a weekend getaway for very special clients. We weren't running a brothel here. The concierge was the one who set those packages up however, not our so respectable Mr. Gardner. But the Hotel business is pretty cut throat and a male hooker would be a new twist. I thought there might be maybe a thirty percent chance I could catch sight of Mr. Addison at work.

Mr. Gardner appeared at the door to the office and looked around. I helpfully pointed to the back of Mr. Addison's head and Mr. Gardner swept over. He pulled the young man further into the lounge area. No chance of eavesdropping there for poor David but I kept a sharp eye on the pair. I set up a room as requested and if it happened to be located on the same stairway as my third floor room, well, there were only so many staircases in the hotel.

He sure was a pretty faced, wide shouldered young man. His multi colored eyes were entrancing. For a moment I indulged myself in imagining what he might look like stripped down and on his back in one of the Hotel's king sized beds. I also wondered if I could afford him. That reminded me and I quickly checked that his room had a king sized bed. What can I say? A guy can dream, can't he?

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Sam Addison unlocked his room and flipped on the lights. The Gladstone Hotel had been around for a long time. It was situated on the North Carolina coast and the hotel's private balconies offered views of the Atlantic Ocean. The weather was a touch nippy here in early November and so getting this auction was a feather in the Manager's cap.

A summer hotel often had a hard time filling its rooms in the winter. The Auction of Rare and Occult Items was using the Hotel for its annual event for the first time and Mr. Gardner had hired Sam at the first hint of trouble to make sure that the auction would consider returning to the Gladstone as an annual event.

The room was decorated in what Sam considered a "Southern Belle" style with polished wood floors, rag rugs and a huge four poster bed. There was lace on the pillow cases and crocheted comforters at the foot. He wondered if it could possibly be a feather mattress although that would be impractical for a hotel. He tossed his suitcase on the bed and headed straight for the balcony.

He stepped out on the little balcony and stood in the wind looking at a grey and heaving Atlantic. The ocean mirrored the storm in his eyes. Here where he didn't need to wear a mask for anyone Sam let the pain and the loss wash over him. He was tired; tired all the way in, all the way to his bones. The fresh wind tossed his hair around and he filled his lungs with air off the waves. It felt like brand new air; air that hadn't ever been breathed before.

He stood and wished the wind could drive his memories away. Perhaps it could drive his sorrows and regrets away like birds tossed around in the stormy sky. They could spread wings and flap away. It was a good image and for a little while he stood there and visualized the black wings arching and fighting their way into the sky.

He was finally cold enough to go back into the room. Closing the baloney doors and latching them he then pulled the curtains closed. The room dimmed; perfect for a nap. He pulled his suitcase off the bed and toed off his shoes. Flopping on the bed fully clothed he wrapped one of the cheerful afghans around his shoulders. In the dim light the cheerful colors were muted; worn down and silenced. He curled up, arms empty and lost. He pulled a pillow into those empty arms, trying to fill an empty heart.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

He awoke to a dark room. It had been only dim before, now it was night. Stretching out a long arm he found the bedside lamp and flipped it on. Glancing at his wristwatch be decided that dinner would be nice. Slipping off the bed he hit the bathroom. Slapping water on his sleep drugged face and then changing his shirt be felt presentable enough for the dining room. He needed to find Gardner to get access to the Auction rooms. He needed access to those Rare and Occult Items to find the source of some of the hotel's latest problems.

The Hotel was, of course, haunted; haunted as much as any other hotel. They were all fertile ground for haunts. In life hotels were way stations for fleeting moments, transitory passions, snippets of lives acted out in unfamiliar rooms. When death struck in the middle of the actors' little plays often the soul was displaced, lost in a strange landscape where nothing familiar offered a resting place.

The Gladstone offered a lady in a white summer dress with a wide brimmed hat who wandering the midnight hall ways searching for something; perhaps her room? She didn't belong here and was obviously lost however her infrequent approaches to the hotel's guests did her no good and only caused a number of middle of the night departures. The staff of the Gladstone was used to that, offering either another room to the braver ones or an immediate refund and directions to another hotel to the weak of heart.

Mr. Gardner had no beef with the Lady in White. She added a dash of panache to the Hotel. Only the very best or, alternately, the very worst, could brag of their own ghost. Their ghost put them in a class with the Hotel Del Coronado or the Roosevelt of Hollywood. He didn't want her disturbed or frightened away. Sam had been brought in to deal with a sudden influx of new and unwelcomed spooks.

There was one that wandered the halls at night with a lit candle, a possible fire hazard although that would be a hard sell to the insurance company. Another was fascinated with the kitchen and, unfortunately, the kitchen pans. The cooks threatened to quit until he had hired a waiter who had the special duty of arriving at 3 AM to put the kitchen pots and pans back to rights again before the chief arrived. The rooms under the attic complained of someone walking about all night long. The complaints were many and frequent.

Mr. Gardner had sent out a call for help to his fellow managers and Sam Addison was the result.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

Sam was seated in a window nook in the dining room. Such special tables were usually reserved for quiet lovers' meetings or celebrities seeking anonymity. Mr. Gardner had left orders that Sam was to be isolated from the other guests and this was the best the maître de could come up with.

Sam waited for his employer to show, fiddling with his napkin, drinking the house wine and watching his fellow guests. When Gardner finally arrived Sam was half way through his dinner. The manger had a copy of the auction catalogue and three keys on a ring.

Sam rose to shake hands with him and Mr. Gardner turned over the catalogue. "Sam, here is a guide to what the auction has brought into the Hotel. I can only assume that these things are what has caused our unusual guests to move in. Of course, you're the expert so I assume you'll make your own decisions about the place."

"I will certainly take a look through the auction rooms first Mr. Gardner." Sam replied as he ruffled through the catalogue.

"Please," the manager said "call me Randy."

"Thanks, Randy." Sam replied. "I hope I'll be able to help settle your hotel for you."

"I thought there were going to be two of you. "

Sam looked up. "There were two of us. I lost my partner very recently. This job can have its dangers."

Randy Gardner could get a message as well as anyone else. He asked no further questions just told Sam to ask David at the front desk to point out the auction rooms and left Sam to finish his dinner.

Sam sat in the dining room looking out at the ocean and waiting for night to claim the sky. He knew hunting alone was stupid and dangerous but he could not yet bring himself to replace Daniel. They had been partners and friends. The two things were not necessarily synonymous for Hunters. Sometimes your best partner was the guy who could tell you to pull your head out of your ass and look around.

It had only been a week since Daniel had died in those dark wooded hills; his chest ripped open by the werewolf's claws. Sam remembered it all over again, crushed by guilt. If only he had looked to the left instead of to the right Daniel would still be here. The wolf had killed Daniel and Sam had killed the wolf, leaving him with two bodies to burn under a cold autumn sky.

He flipped though the catalogue for the third time but dog eared the pages that interested him this time through: a deck of Aleister Crowley Tarot cards, a mirror from the dressing table of Catherine de' Medici, a Hand of Glory from a seventeenth century hanging. He would take a closer look tonight after the rest of the Hotel went to sleep.

The auction customers would start arriving in the morning and he hoped to make progress before he had innocents' bodies sprawled in the hallways. Until recently most of his hunts had been victim free but he was worried that the Campbell curse had tracked him down. His happiness with Daniel and hiding his true name had not worked to keep them safe. He should have known better. You can't break a curse you can only get out of its way.

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At the infamous 'witching hour" Sam made his way into the auction showroom. He had scouted it out earlier that evening with David the desk clerk leading the way. That guy made him nervous. There had been too many almost touches. Innuendoes had littered the carpet and he had repeatedly found David peeking at him from the corner of his eye. Sam had finally said he needed to do the supposed 'cataloguing' of the artifacts alone and the desk clerk had left him reluctantly. It was then that Sam finally set down to do some real work.

He had sketched the room and notated the really 'live' objects. There were a number that gave off strong EMF. He had to admit that whoever put this sale together knew what he was doing. The Tarot deck appeared to be real. It gave off a strong stench of Crowley's brand of sexual sadism. The Medici mirror seemed to have traces of Huguenot victims still lingering. Grotesquely enough in a far corner he had located the blade from a French Guillotine, still marked along the edge with un-cleanable stains. Sam could feel these traces unaided. It was one of his major strengths as a Hunter and also a huge secret.

The Campbell line had been cursed with 'the sight' as far back as their history could be traced. It was just another piece of his life he had tried to escape, with disastrous results. He had known that the Hunt was going to go wrong but he hadn't said anything and he hadn't warned Daniel. He didn't want to talk about his death visions gift. Some gift it turned out to be.

While making his list and taking notes he thought seriously about telling Bobby Singer that he was going back to the Sam Campbell name. He was ready to be a Campbell again. It had not helped to keep Daniel safe and was now just a blanket of unnecessary lies to remember.

While admiring a Borgia poison ring he noticed his first ghost. A lady in a long ruffled nightgown appeared in the corner by the Guillotine blade and, carrying a lit oil lamp, wandered toward the exit doors. Sam followed behind fairly certain he was watching a victim of the Revolution looking for a way out. There was no escape for her now. There had been no escape for her two hundred and twenty years ago during the Reign of Terror either when over 40,000 executions had taken place in France. Her name was just one of thousands lost in history.

Sad and lost as she appeared to be Sam could not allow her to wander these halls. While she might be simply looking for escape there was a possibility that she could give an elderly guest a heart attack with her pale face and her little floating flame.

He made his way back to the blade and performed a purification ritual with holy water and Prayers for the Dead. As softly as she arrived he heard her sigh and saw her light go out. Even if she had never found her escape he hoped she at last had gone to her rest. It was the best he could offer.

"**Hope" is the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson**

"Hope" is the thing with feathers -  
>That perches in the soul -<br>And sings the tune without the words -  
>And never stops - at all -<p>

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -  
>And sore must be the storm -<br>That could abash the little Bird  
>That kept so many warm -<p>

I've heard it in the chillest land -  
>And on the strangest Sea -<br>Yet, never, in Extremity,  
>It asked a crumb - of Me.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2 - He's Selling

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 2**

**He's Selling**

**From Chapter 1**

_While admiring a Borgia poison ring he noticed his first ghost. A lady in a long ruffled nightgown appeared in the corner by the Guillotine blade and, carrying a lit oil lamp, wandered toward the exit doors. Sam followed behind fairly certain he was watching a victim of the Revolution looking for a way out. There was no escape for her now. There had been no escape for her two hundred and twenty years ago during the Reign of Terror either when over 40,000 executions had taken place in France. Her name was just one of thousands lost in history._

_Sad and lost as she appeared to be Sam could not allow her to wander these halls. While she might be simply looking for escape there was a possibility that she could give an elderly guest a heart attack with her pale face and her little floating flame._

_He made his way back to the blade and performed a purification ritual with holy water and Prayers for the Dead. As softly as she arrived he heard her sigh and saw her light go out. Even if she had never found her escape he hoped she at last had gone to her rest. It was the best he could offer._

**Chapter 2**

The sun poured through the huge arched windows of his apartment and hit Dean Winchester right in the face. God but he loved this place. He yawned, stretched and bounced out of bed, moving right in front of the curtain less window, naked as the day he was born. He was twenty stories up on the west side of Central Park and if there were Peeping Toms out there in the forest of New York apartment buildings he was more than willing to give them a show.

He ran his fingers down his chest and brushed the backs of his digits against his cock, getting a little tingle going. Then he started his morning stretches. Left side stretch, right side stretch, drop his hands to the floor keeping his knees straight and slapping the wood. Repeat. He could feel the blood beginning to move through his sleep stiffened muscles and his day was on its way.

The second time he slapped the floor a voice came from behind him; from his bed.

"Well, isn't that a pretty show?" a gruff man's voice called out. Dean turned quickly. He had forgotten all about the man he had picked up at the club last night. He flicked his eyes at the large, well-built hunk of man he had brought home with him.

The man, Dean's usual type, big and rough looking with a light dusting of day old beard, flipped back the bed covers and patted the mattress.

"Why don't you get back over here, sweet cheeks?" the guy said. "I'll give you another ride and get both our days started off right."

Dean wasn't adverse to a little morning delight but he hesitated. He had to catch a flight down to North Carolina in the early afternoon and he still had to stop at the store and pick up a few select items for the auction. He didn't think he had time to climb on the guy again for a quickie. He would have to decide. Was it going to be sex or breakfast?

He did the math and decided on breakfast. Who knew what kind of food he would be getting on the plane? He could pick up men all day. They were thick on the ground. A well-cooked omelet at Maisie's Diner around the corner was something to treasure.

"Excuse me, buddy," he started to say.

"Pete" the man growled. "My name is Pete. You thought it was pretty funny last night when you had a couple of drinks under your belt. Pete with a Peter, that's what you were repeating all the way over here in the cab. You're such a slut. I was too busy last night getting you naked to bother with the niceties and find out the name of the guy about to ride my dick."

"Well, Pete," Dean got out. "My name is Dean and I've got a plane to catch pretty soon so I'll just have to take a rain check and call you when I get back in town."

Pete started to climb out of the bed. "No you don't, pretty boy. You get that ass back over here."

As Pete came around the end of the bed Dean dived for his pants. Snatching them up off the floor he made it into the bathroom and slammed the door. Pete pounded on the door. "Come on out kid. Let's have a little fun."

Dean sat on the closed toilet seat, pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and dialed the store's security office.

"Hi. Melody?" he said as dispatch answered. "It's Dean. Yes, someone is pounding on a door. I need rescuing again. Can you get the guys up here right away?" As he started to flip the phone shut he could hear Melody giggling.

"Listen Pete," Dean called out."I just called Security. You might just want to drop your number on the bedside table and get dressed before they show up."

Pete put his head against the door and groaned. "I can't believe you're doing this to me, slut. I'm out here with a dick that could cut diamond and you're hiding in the bathroom. I'm getting dressed and leaving now but you better watch your ass. I'll be back to collect just when you're not expecting it."

There was a little thumping and muttering from the other room but Dean was fairly confident the guy wouldn't try to break down the door and he'd be gene before security showed up.

Deciding he would get started on the day Dean headed for the shower. Under the water he inspected his body, looking for any evidence of last night's activities. Yes, there were finger shaped bruises on the inside of his thighs and now that the hot water was sliding down his back he definitely had beard-burn. He hoped he'd get the memories back as the day went on since it felt like he and Pete had a real good time.

He was almost done with the shower, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, when there was a firm knocking on the bathroom door.

"Dean, you in there? It's Andy." A man's voice called out. Andy was one of the store's regular security guards, a middle aged man with a permanent partner. Dean trusted Andy. He'd tried to entice the guy a couple of times and Andy had ignored him.

"Yeah. Andy. I'm OK. I'll be out in a minute. I'm almost done;" Dean answered.

"We're going to wait for you," Andy answered back. "I got someone new to introduce. His name is Alfonso. Melody told us to stay with you until you get on that plane. Remember that guy Jerry."

Dean hummed. Somebody new. Interesting. He'd have to take a look and he sure as hell remembered Jerry. Jerry had waited until the guards left Dean's apartment and then had come back. Andy had finally become concerned when Dean wasn't at the store by noon and had returned to the apartment to check. By that time Jerry had definitely got what he wanted and Dean later had a number of prominent bruises to remind him of the man.

"I'll be out in a minute, Andy." Dean called aback. " I'd like to go over to Maisie's for breakfast. My treat."

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

A couple of hours later Dean was finally at Winchesters Rarities, the family business. The Winchesters were well known for having the rarest, the most whimsical and the very, very most expensive of items. The stock was extremely specialized and exclusive. Benefactors had been known to pay pretty stiff prices for museum quality pieces. Often the Winchester pieces ended up in museums, providing their customers with hefty and supportable tax deductions for charitable donations.

The business had been with the family for generations. Dean had been raised with actual silver spoons to eat with and he had been molded into one of the business's very special and beautiful items. He had his specialty, like all the Winchester did. His father hand been known for his weapon collection. His grandfather roamed the world searching out the best of the jeweler's art. Dean went for rare and mystical objects.

Dean's show room was kept locked at all times. Customers visited by appointment only. The Winchester auction of Rare and Occult Items which Dean had organized at the Gladstone Hotel was a type of closet cleaning for the young man. He had his eye on some very special items and needed to build up his resources so that he could chase off after his heart's desire in several remote parts of the world.

Some of the auction objects weren't even haunted, just beautiful. Some of them were very haunted and had been causing problems in the store. Dean was well aware however that those items that were both beautiful and haunted were going to bring the highest prices. The auction catalogue was a closely guarded item that had been sent out to only those special customers that were capable of showing up not only loaded but knowledgeable.

Dean had annotated the guest list here and there with names of men who perhaps wouldn't be there to buy items but were invited more for Dean to have a nice selection of bed partners. After all, he was going to be in the wilds of North Carolina for at least three nights. Dean wasn't known for denying himself.

Dean unlocked his private show room and went in with a secure traveling case for those few items he was carrying to the auction himself. The Demon Knife of the Kurds was possibly three thousand years old and definitely traveling first class. If no one met Dean's price he would simply bring it home again. The Elf Ring was of questionable provenance but was undeniably beautiful and no expert could say how it had been made or why the cloudy glow within the clear gem moved. The gaudy necklace of Madame Pompadour was in the case almost purely for insurance reasons. Was there a gem the woman didn't crave?

The insurance premium on Dean's special traveling case was jaw dropping. The company had wanted armed guards but Dean had convinced his agent that they would just make him a target. The Winchesters had moved these types of objects around the world for hundreds of years and were without a doubt the ultimate experts. Dean would travel with the case manacled to his wrist and two security guards, including Andy, would go along with him to the auction.

The Winchesters had standing arrangements with airports and recently with Homeland Security. The fact that Dean was traveling by plane with a three thousand year old religious artifact in the shape of a knife was not going to be a problem. He was going to fly into Raleigh-Durham airport then he would transfer to a regional flight to get close enough to the coastal hotel to drive. It was going to be a long day but he would definitely be there for the first night of the auction.

The Gladstone wouldn't remember Dean but he remembered the Gladstone. It was the venue of one of his favorite memories of his father. Usually Dean had been left at home when his father went on one of his trips but John had gone to North Carolina on the trail of a cache of Civil War weapons and decided to take Dean along. He had only been eleven at the time and it was the longest period of time he had ever spent with his father, just the two of them.

He didn't have any memories of his mother who had died before his first birthday. As he aged he had caught certain ill-natured whispers about his mother's death but was sure that his father had nothing to do with the fall that killed her. His father had never re-married and always spoke of his Rebecca with sadness in his voice. Yes, falling off a mountain in Tibet was unusual but the Winchester men had a long history of visiting unusual places.

Dean settled comfortably into his first class seat and opened up the auction catalogue. He had been sending pieces down to the hotel for weeks now and with the exception of the items in his case everything looked ready to go. After landing at the commercial airport Dean and his entourage transferred to a private plane to get them closer to the coast. By the time he was climbing into the SUV for the trip to the Hotel he was getting just a bit cranky.

Finally they pulled up in front of the Gladstone and Dean was grateful to be able to stretch his legs. He was met at the front doors by the Manger, Mr. Gardner and swept past the front desk, leaving Andy to deal with the paperwork and the rather creepy looking Desk Clerk. Mr. Gardner unlocked the doors to the auction rooms. Andy had brought Paul Wisner with them to act as an armed guard and Dean hoped that Hotel security could be counted to be on its toes.

He was somewhat shocked however to find a man already inside the main auction floor. A tall, lanky, dark haired man was standing next to the case holding one of Dean's haunted treasures, a Civil War uniform still stained by its owner's blood.


	3. Chapter 3 - Tall, Dark and Cranky

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 3**

**Tall, Dark and Cranky**

**From Chapter 2**

_Finally they pulled up in front of the Gladstone and Dean was grateful to be able to stretch his legs. He was met at the front doors by the Manger, Mr. Gardner and swept past the front desk, leaving Andy to deal with the paperwork and the rather creepy looking Desk Clerk. Mr. Gardner unlocked the doors to the auction rooms. Andy had brought Paul Wisner with them to act as an armed guard and Dean hoped that Hotel security could be counted to be on its toes._

_He was somewhat shocked however to find a man already inside the main auction floor. A tall, lanky, dark haired man was standing next to the case holding one of Dean's haunted treasures, a Civil War uniform still stained by its owner's blood._

**Chapter 3**

Sam had tracked down his next ghost. He had investigated the attic very early in the morning looking for clues to the 'pacing ghost' who was annoying the guests on the upper floors with the all night movement over their heads. Sitting quietly in a chill hotel attic at 3 AM was a long and lonely vigil. Previously Sam had Daniel to share these night watches but now he spent them alone.

In the dim light of the false dawn he had felt the presence of an anxious and disturbed shade. The faded outline of a man with a cap had traced a wispy outline against the dusty window and he seemed to be carrying a long gun by his side. The fragmented apparition had given Sam the impression of a soldier, perhaps a sentry, on watch for an expected foe. It had walked a pattern before the window stopping to look East on each pass. His footsteps echoed on the wood floor.

When the sunrise finally broke and light flooded the window the apparition tore into tatters and drifted away. Sam stood up, stretched and left intending to take a short nap then to investigate the auction rooms to see if anything could explain the night sentry. Cold, alone and slightly depressed he made his way down a couple of flights to his room.

In the weak light of the afternoon sun Sam woke, still fully dressed and wrapped in one of the Hotel's Afghans. As he rolled up and shed the cozy blanket he realized he had missed both breakfast and lunch, focused on his ghost hunt. In and out of the bathroom with minimal primping he headed down stairs for the dining room. Finally ready for work he entered the main auction room and moved from display to display, filling in the blanks on his site map.

Sam stood looking at a Union Civil War uniform jacket. It was heavily stained and he thought he knew what the stains were. The jacket was folded neatly to blatantly display the blood and it was protected inside a glass display case. Sam glanced at the key ring Gardner had given him. There were no case lock keys. Everything appeared to be a door key. Every item on display was locked in its own individual case and Sam could easily see the flat, glittering strip of silver alarm ribbon further protecting each item.

The only way he was going to get that jacket out of the case was to either break it and cause a major incident or convince the owner to give Sam the garment. As he stood and looked at the jacket he heard the entrance doors click as they were unlocked. The doors swing open and three men entered. One was the hotel Manager, one was a beefy, rough looking man whose stance screamed tough guy and the third man put Sam's heart in his throat.

Sam coughed, cleared the obstruction and smiled at his reaction. He thought to himself that if he was a dog he'd be pounding a leg against the floor. The third man was perfect.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

Dean was surprised to find someone in the room and flicked a raised eyebrow at the Hotel Manager. He could tell the guy by the case was tall and broad shouldered with longer than usual dark hair but only the display case lights were on and the man's face was in shadow.

"Mr. Winchester," the Manager stuttered, as surprised as Dean at the unexpected figure. "Let me introduce you to an expert the Hotel has brought in for the auction." The stranger stepped forward but his face was still in shadow. Dean realized that part of the shadow was due to the height of the man.

Mr. Gardner continued. "This is Sam Addison." Andy, who was standing in back reached over and flicked on the ceiling lights and Dean got a good look at Mr. Addison. The guy's face had been carved by an artist. His hair softly outlined the face and the man's eyes were slightly slanted feathered pools of sadness. Dean had a type and Addison was it; tall, strong, well-muscled and pretty. As far as Dean could tell the guy was perfect.

Addison reached forward to shake Dean's hand. He glanced at Dean's left wrist, circled by the manacle and still chained to the traveling case. Dean realized he was staring and snapped to. "Well, good, the more the safer, right?' He stepped forward past Mr. Perfect and laid the case down on a nearby counter. "I have a few items here that the insurance company insisted be brought down under armed guard. It's time to get them in their cases."

Dean pulled out his keys and unlocked the metal brief case.

"Oh, Mr. Addison isn't a security expert," Mr. Gardner said. "I'm sorry if I mislead you. He's more of a historical expert."

Dean turned to Sam. "Really?" he murmured. "How so? I assure you that all of the lots have been authenticated by experts and are well supplied with provenience documentation."

Sam smiled. "I'm more of an expert in ghosts, hauntings, curses and so on. Some of your treasures may have been causing problems here in the hotel."

Dean sat down abruptly on one of the swivel stools in front of the courter. "A Ghostbuster? You're kidding." He looked at the Hotel Manager. "You brought in a ghost hunter to my auction? Are you out of your mind?"

"Hey," Sam barked out. "What's your problem? Are you looking for people to get hurt?"

Dean stood up and poked a rigid finger into Sam's chest. "Look here buddy, you just stay away from my auction items. Whatever your hustle is, people are coming here to buy stuff they believe is haunted or magical or cursed. They're going to pay for the story. The story is what gives most of these pieces their value. I don't need you around taking the shine off the apple."

Sam looked down at the guy bruising his sternum. "Well, too freaking late for the Guillotine ghost. I took care of her frilly ass yesterday."

Dean froze. He looked around. "Andy, Gardner, get out. Get out of the room. Andy, guard the doors. Mr. Addison and I need to have a private conversation. I'll deal with you later Gardner." Dean flapped his hands, chasing the two men out of the room. He followed them to the doors and once they were outside he motioned to Andy for the key and locked himself and Sam in.

He was so angry his hands were shaking. As he pulled the key out of the lock he dropped it on the floor and bent over to pick it up. Realizing how it looked he craned his head around and caught Addison staring at his ass.

He straightened up and went back to the annoyingly good looking saboteur.

"Look here, Addison," he snarled, again poking his finger into Sam's chest. "Keep your hands off my stuff and keep your mouth shut. I have to swear to my customers that such and such a piece is haunted and you're going to stand there and tell me you got rid of one of my ghosts? Do you have any idea how much money you could cost me? As it is now I'll have to withdraw the Guillotine blade. It's only real value was that God damned ghost. No one wants it as a wall decoration."

Tired of the pounding and beginning to fell somewhat sore from the repeated poking, Sam grabbed Dean's intruding finger. "Stop it with the pointy finger, Princess." He growled.

Dean, still angry and now insulted that Sam was able to handle his arm so easily responded by pushing Sam away with both hands on the man's chest. "I'm not your princess, buddy."

Sam was rocked back on his heels by the sudden attack. He wrapped his large hands around Dean's biceps and pushed the shorter man backward until they crashed into the wall beside the doors.

Andy heard the noise from outside and yelled. "Dean, are you alright?"

"I'm fine Andy," the blonde man yelled back. "I'll yell if I need you."

"I'll sue your ass for assault, Addison." Dean hissed. "Let the hell go of me."

"Calm down green eyes." Sam smiled. "If I'm going to get sued I might as well make it for something good."

He wrapped one long arm around Dean's waist and pulled the blonde in tight and close. With his other hand Sam grabbed Dean's chin firmly and kissed him.

Initially Dean fought but Sam was so much larger than Dean that it was hopeless. The kiss went on and on. Sam was pretty much raping his mouth and having a hell of a good time doing it. It only took the realization that there was nothing he could do to resist that turned Dean, the natural bottom, on so hard he achieved an immediate erection. Sam ground their hips together, glorying in his control.

Sam pulled his head back far enough to look into Dean's eyes and say, "So you like that, do you Princess?" He rubbed against the smaller man's obvious boner, rolling it from side to side in Dean's pants. Dean just about melted into the wall. He was a true submissive in bed and this display of aggression thrilled him to his core.

"Touch me," Dean demanded and pretty much tried to climb up the taller man's body.

Sam pulled back altogether when he felt Dean trying to wrap a leg around him. "You bastard," Dean muttered, panting, He pushed his head into the wall behind him.

Sam pulled Dean's wrists together and wrapped them up with one big hand. He lifted the trapped hands over the blonde's head and pinned them to that wall. With his free hand Sam felt Dean up; paying a lot of attention to Dean's rock hard dick. The larger man swept in again and claimed Dean's lips for another bruising, almost violent, kiss.

Just when Dean thought he was going to come in his pants, Sam stopped, spun the smaller man around and smacked his ass hard. Leaning in Sam demonstrated a tongue that felt prehensile to Dean when it circled the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Sam whispered; "Ten o'clock tonight, room 218."

Sam pulled the door key out of Dean's pants pocket, unlocked the doors and left, leaving Dean a quivering mess.


	4. Chapter 4 - Hours to Go Before I Sleep

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 4**

**Hours to Go Before I Sleep**

**From Chapter 3**

_Sam pulled Dean's wrists together and wrapped them up with one big hand. He lifted the trapped hands over the blonde's head and pinned them to that wall. With his free hand Sam felt Dean up; paying a lot of attention to Dean's rock hard dick. The larger man swept in again and claimed Dean's lips for another bruising, almost violent, kiss._

_Just when Dean thought he was going to come in his pants, Sam stopped, spun the smaller man around and smacked his ass hard. Leaning in Sam demonstrated a tongue that felt prehensile to Dean when it circled the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Sam whispered; "Ten o'clock tonight, room 218."_

_Sam pulled the door key out of Dean's pants pocket, unlocked the doors and left, leaving Dean a quivering mess. _

**Chapter 4**

Dean was left behind in the auction room, disheveled, aroused and deeply pissed off. He stepped into the doorway and watched Sam Addison calmly walk off, leaving the green-eyed Winchester behind like a discarded toy.

Andy immediately entered the room and surveyed his boss. Determining that all the important parts were still there and apparently unbruised Andy closed the door behind him. "Pull it together, Dean." Andy barked. "Excuse the cliché but you really look like you've been 'ridden hard and put up wet'.

The security man laughed. "It looks like that guy knows how to handle you, for sure. Now come on, Boss, you've got an auction to run."

With Andy pushing and snarking Dean sat down and pulled his professional mask back on. The traveling case still lay on the counter and he needed to get it unloaded and the lots in their cases before the bidders started showing up for early views. Straightening his clothes Dean took out his key ring and got to work.

This evening's portion of the sale was limited to a few hours. Really it was more to whet the buyer's appetites for the second evening where more esoteric items would be offered. Sunday night was the special one. By that time the weaker bidders would have been weeded out and sent home happy with the treasures they could afford. Some would be taking problems home with them that might require some special handling later. Dean could see some possibility of using someone like Sam Addison for the requests for help that always came in later when the less knowledgeable of his customers came to realize what they had bought. He wondered if trying to tame Addison might not be worth it. If Addison was the real deal….

Dean mentally slapped himself upside the head. Here he was making up plans to keep Addison around just because the guy gave him an instant boner; not the way to make a business decision. Dean never before had allowed the guys who got into his pants the opportunity to get into his pocket. Firmly pushing away thoughts of the way Addison's hands felt on his body, Dean got to work.

Tonight he would have the Pompadour necklace; a set of Egyptian canonic jars with lids shaped like the heads of the protective deities, the four sons of Horus; The Guillotine blade; a lovely 19th century French Jumeau doll; a Book of the Dead, or Funeral Papyri, another Egyptian artifact; whores' petticoats from the Bird Cage Theatre in Tombstone Arizona and a few other odds and ends.

Some of the items might be haunted. Their proveniences were a little obscure. Of course, he would have to now say that the Guillotine blade only may be haunted, not guaranteed to be haunted as stated in the catalogue, due to Mr. Addison's interference. He hoped to take that loss out of Sam's ass later in the evening perhaps.

This first night was just a taste. The Pompadour necklace he hoped would sell early and quickly. There was no magic attached to that item. It was left over from his Grandfather's time and Dean regarded it as more of a nuisance than anything else. It was worth a lot of money but there was no real historical value to the piece. It wasn't even known how the Lady acquired it. If they had been able to trace it directly to the King that would have been at least something but Granddad had either lost the paperwork or just bought it because it was pretty.

Looking around the room Dean made sure that only tonight's lots had their pedestal lights on. Everything looked ready to go.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

At a quarter to ten the Hotel's elevator stopped on the second floor and Dean Winchester stepped out. He was pretty full of himself. The auction had gone well. His reserves had been well estimated and everything offered had gone for at least the reserve price or a little bit more. Someone had bought the Guillotine Blade even after Dean had denied the ghost.

He was little early for his date but the auction had ended at nine and other than primping in his room he really had nothing else to amuse him. So Mr. Addison was getting an early visitor. Dean had brought along some Samuel Adams Boston Lager to smooth the way. He had considered Budweiser or even Coors Light but decided not to be such a smart ass. Who knew, maybe Addison was a beer snob? Dean was hoping his ass was going to be admired for other reasons than being smart, anyway.

He stepped in front of Room 218's door and knocked.

Sam Addison opened the door and smiled. He was wearing only a loosely tied white bathrobe and his long dark hair was wet. Dean smiled back. He liked his men clean and smelling of shampoo and soap.

"Well hello, Princess." Sam Addison said softly. "You're just a bit early. Come on in."

Dean moved into the room and looked for a place to put the beer down. Addison caught his waist from behind and lifted the six pack away. "Let's get this in the refrigerator, why don't we?" Addison's warm breath caressed Dean's neck as the taller man leaned forward to kiss the sensitive skin below Dean's ear. Sam then let go and put the beer away in the little courtesy fridge but not before snagging two bottles.

"Here we go," Sam handed the bottles to Dean. "Why don't you pop the caps on these while I dry my hair?"

Sam moved across the room to a huge arm chair beside the bed. It was upholstered in dark rose fabric that gleamed in the light of a lamp on the bedside table. Sam sat down. pulled up a towel he had around his neck and began to scrub his hair dry. The bathrobe slithered to the side and exposed his long legs up past his knees to his strong, muscular thighs. Dean got a twitch in his pants just getting a glimpse of the paler skin.

Dean didn't want to get caught staring. He had his pride and didn't want to drool. He looked around for a place to open the bottles.

"There's a bottle opener on the top of the fridge." Sam said, dropping the towel to the floor. The man's white teeth shone in the dim light and Dean shivered at the suggestion of power in that smile. Sam wasn't going to be fooled by any of Dean's pretenses. He knew exactly why Winchester was in the room and what the green-eyed man wanted.

Deane popped the lids with his back turned and heard Sam snort at his obvious avoidance. "Just bring them on over here, Princess."

As Dean approached Sam untied the belt of his robe and dropped it on top of the towel. Now he was exposed from clavicle to toes and Dean could not help himself. His eyes immediately fastened on the man's long dick hanging down between his legs, the tip hidden in shadow. Sam's public hair was dark, thick and curly. Dean wanted, among other things, to feel that hair with his fingers and let it tickle his lips.

As he got close Sam reached out and took the beer bottles from his hand. He parked them on the window ledge behind the chair and captured Dean's wrist with his free hand. Sam pulled Dean in like a fish on a line.

"Princess," that dark voice now resonated with just a hint of smoke and fire, "you're wearing too many clothes for our party."

Sam pulled him in to between his opened knees and started at the top. Slowly the man unbuttoned Dean's pale blue shirt. As each button let ago and Sam played the tension like a master. Dean, intending to speed things along lifted his hands to help but they were knocked away. "No, Princess." Sam grunted. "My toy, my way. Behave."

Once the shirt was undone Sam pushed it down to the crook of Dean's elbows and left it there. Now Dean's arms were loosely restrained. His T-shirt went next, pulled roughly over his head and Sam stopped it also at his elbows. Now Dean was doubly constrained in a tangle of fabric. "So pretty," Sam murmured and pulled Dean forward so Sam could fasten his lips around a nipple. Sucking and teasing Sam used one hand in the small of Dean's back to hold him close while the other went to slow work on Dean's pants.

Clever nimble fingers got the job done and all the while Dean's nipple was held captive and teased. Sm slid the pants and jockeys down to Dena's ankles then let go of the tortured nipple. "Can you get off the shoes and kick the clothes away?" Sam rumbled. Dean hastened to comply.

Sam picked up a bottle of beer from the window ledge and swallowed a large gulp. He then reach forward and tilted the bottle into Dean's mouth. "Drink up green-eyes. You're going to need the fluids." Dean closed his eyes and drank. When the bottle was taken away he felt Sam's hand slide from the small of his back down to one ass cheek. Sam's hand just about completely covered the pert, rounded mound.

Sam's other hand grabbed on to the other cheek. His hand was slightly chilled from holding the bottle. Sam pulled the crack open and fingers started investigating. Slowly a long finger circled and petted Dean's rosy hole. Sam scrabbled around in the bedside table drawer and there was a sensation of cold, slippery dampness now. Sam long finger demanded entrance. Dean moaned and arched his back, raising his ass for easier access.

A second finger was demanding access and Dean felt like maybe it was too soon but Dean wasn't driving this bus. Sam was going to do exactly what he wanted to do. Dean could feel his submissive side waking up and taking control. The stiff necked, control freak was drowning in the pool of submissive emotions and Dan relaxed in his lover's control. Pain, no pain, whatever Sam wanted Dean would allow and enjoy.

Sam let go of Dean's ass and finally pulled the shirts off his arms. "Kneel, Princess," Sam demanded and Dean fell to his knees. "Suck me." was the next command and Dean dived in between Sam's legs eager to obey. "Get me good and hard." Sam twisted in the chair and moved a hand to Dean's hair to control his head. Pushing down with his fingers buried in Dean's short spikes Sam whispered, "Come on bitch, and suck."

Dean's hole begged for the missing fingers; his dick was cry out for attention and he was sucking a dick that filled his mouth all the way down the back of his throat. He ran his hands up and down Sam's legs begging for whatever the bigger man would give him. As Sam's dick filled Dean could not help but wonder at the size of the dick he was hoping to ride. It was almost frightening but Dean was more than willing to try and take it.

Sam groaned and started pulling up on Dean's arms. "Come on, baby, get on and ride." Dean had been expecting the bed but this was possibly even better. He had never taken a ride in a chair before. Sam helped him climb onto his lap. Dean got on his knees and slid down each side of Sam's hips, blocked in by the chair's arms. It was like the piece of furniture had been made to fit them. Dean rose up as Sam reached around to line up and then Dean was sinking down on that heavy, long dick. Each inch was a heady combination of pleasure and pain and half way down Sam reach up under his arms and grabbed on to the green-eyed man's shoulders and slammed in the rest of the way.

Dean whimpered and fell forward, burying his face in Sam's neck.

"Oh, poor baby. Did that hurt?" Sam chucked. "How about this?" He picked Dean up and slammed his ass down again. "Come on, you can take it slut." Sam hissed.

Dean rose up again and Sam slapped his ass. "Move it. Come on, make me happy."

Dean's own dick was rubbing against Sam's stomach and between that sensation, the sparks exploding every time Sam slammed into his prostrate and the burning in his ass as Sam smacked his cheeks, Dean was turning into a giant, compliant sex toy. The way Sam was fucking and beating his ass it was a wonder the chair held together. In a small corner of Dean's mind he made a note to buying one just like this one.

When he felt Sam shoot his load Dean answered with an orgasm of his own. Behind his eyelids there was a fourth of July light show going off. Dean had nothing, ever, to compare this ride to. He curled forward into Sam's arms and the bigger man covered his neck and jaw in kisses. Holding on loosely to Sam's shoulders Dean wanted nothing more than to rest.

He could feel Sam's come starting to leak out of him. This was the point at which he usually dismounted and headed for the bathroom but Sam's big arm had him firmly pinned down and he didn't think he was going to be allowed to go anywhere for a while. Even so he was more than a little shocked when Sam inserted a plug in his ass. Sam whispered, "Can't damage the hotel's property, can we? They might not let us back again. I'm thinking we might want to use this chair again sometime this weekend."

As they began to cool they started feeling all sticky and after about five minutes Sam pushed Dean off his lap and stood up. "Come on, Princess. Let's hit the shower and get ready for bed."

This was when Dean normally got back in charge. He was master of the roost and if his bed partner got too pushy there was always Andy waiting in the hallway. Dean realized he had broken his own rules. He had been so anxious to see Sam again he hadn't told Andy where he was going. There wasn't any convenient muscle waiting outside the door. There was only Sam.

Dean looked for his pants, which he had kicked off early in the program. They were on the other side of the room with his phone in the pocket.

Sam seemed to understand exactly what was going through Dean's head. "It's all right, Princess. I'm not going to hurt you. Maybe I'll screw you again but I wouldn't think you object to that. Let's hit the shower."

In the shower Sam took very good care of Dean. He soaped him up with a frothy body wash and cleaned away all the evidence. He even took the plug out. Sam got out of the shower first and wrapped up in the hotel's towels. "I'm pretty sure you have a night time routine. There's a new toothbrush on the sink. I'll see you in bed in a little while." Sam left and closed the door behind him.

As soon as Dean was done he opened the bathroom door and headed for his pants.

Sam was a large lump in the bed. "Don't bother, Princess." His voice rumbled. "I've got your phone over here and the door is locked. Just come to bed. You can make your call from here."

Dean did as he was told and climbed into the bed. Sam leaned over and nibbled on Dean's ear lobe. He breathed warm air on the damp skin and while Dean was distracted reached around and shoved the plug back up his ass. Dean yelped in surprise and Sam laughed. "It's just to keep you open. I don't want to waste time in the morning."

"After you make your call I have a present for you. Here." Dean felt his phone pressed into his hand. He dialed Andy and reported in.

"No Andy, everything's fine. I'm in room 218 with Sam. No problem. I'll be sleeping here tonight. I know. It's all right. I want to stay." Dean turned the phone off and put it on the bedside table. He rolled over and faced Sam.

Sam smiled and ran a hand down his Dean's cheek. "Everything fine with your sitter?'

Dean snorted. "Don't let Andy hear you call him that. He calls me boss."

Sam sat up in the bed and reached for something again.

"You know, Sam." Dean drawled. "You certainly have everything all set up around you. I'm beginning to worry every time you open a drawer."

Sam laughed. "Sit up Princess. Don't you want your present?" Dean pulled himself up and was surprised when Sam circled his neck with something cold.

"What the hell is that?" Dean asked, putting up a hand to his neck and finding a necklace. Sam was still fiddling around with the clasp.

"It's your collar, Princess. This one is just temporary. I have a nicer one coming tomorrow."

"What?" Dean yelped. "A collar? Why would I wear a collar? I'm not a dog."

"You may not be a dog but for this weekend at least you are going to be my bitch so get used to it and don't try to take it off." Sam laid back down and reached out to turn off the light. "I mean it. Leave it alone. It's a warning that you are claimed and if I catch you flirting with anyone else this weekend the tanning I just gave your ass will be love taps in comparison to the punishment I'll hand out."

"I'll have to give that idea some thought Addison. I don't remember agreeing to this." Dean replied. "I have a business to run, you know. I'm not here mainly for your pleasure."

Sam yawned. "Really? Well, isn't life surprising?"


	5. Chapter 5 - Auction, Day 2

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 5**

**Auction, Day 2**

**From Chapter 4**

"_What?" Dean yelped. "A collar? Why would I wear a collar? I'm not a dog."_

"_You may not be a dog but for this weekend at least you are going to be my bitch so get used to it and don't try to take it off." Sam lay back down and reached out to turn off the light. "I mean it. Leave it alone. It's a warning that you are claimed and if I catch you flirting with anyone else this weekend the tanning I just gave your ass will be love taps in comparison to the punishment I'll hand out." _

"_I'll have to give that idea some thought, Addison. I don't remember agreeing to this." Dean replied. "I have a business to run, you know. I'm not here mainly for your pleasure."_

_Sam yawned. "Really? Well, isn't life surprising?"_

**Chapter 5**

Early the next morning Dean woke in Sam's bed. He felt sore and used and, above all, owned. Sam's heavy arm was wrapped around his waist. He was the little spoon. Carefully he wiggled his way free and slithered out of the bed. As his feet hit the floor his self-confidence began to rise and he headed for the bathroom and safely.

As he pulled the door closed his first line of defense burst like a bubble in champagne. There was no lock on the door. He was outraged. Wasn't there some kind of rule about Hotels needing locks on the bathroom doors? If it wasn't part of the Uniform Building Code, it should be.

He checked himself out in the full length mirror on the back of the door. He picked at the heavy silver chain hanging around his neck and slid it around looking for the clasp. There was a little tug on the side of his neck and he turned his head to the right. There it was, a hickey in full bloom, riding up the side of his neck, dark red and very visible. He hissed his displeasure and grumbled as he could not disengage the clasp of the silver chain. However it was sealed he wasn't getting it off without help.

He was marked and collared and he cursed Sam Addison. The only thing he could do he did and pulled the plug out of his ass. After taking care of his normal morning routines he finally headed for the shower to wash the stink of sex off his skin. The water was hot and the hotel's pressure was great. He relaxed under the warm spray. Leaning against the tile he let the water running down his back carry his tension down the drain.

His mind skipped to the afternoon and the second auction session. There were some of the choicer pieces coming up today; the Borgia ring was sure to fetch a good price. Beyond the historical value the ring itself was gorgeous, the perfect setting for the large blood red ruby.

Also included for the session was a Hand of Glory, a deck of Aleister Crowley Tarot cards, and a mirror from the dressing table of Catherine de' Medici that was purported to show the faces of some of her Huguenot victims. He had a selection of old photographs and Daguerreotypes ready to go.

His Daguerreotype of Abraham Lincoln that supposedly changed positions over time he was seriously considering moving to Session 3 of the auction. If he sold it in session two it was be the lead item but it was possible to have a better collection of buyers attending Session 3 who might push the price up. He had not decided as of yet which way to move. The blood stained uniform jacket from the same period made an interesting match for the piece of Lincoln memorabilia.

He had a Harry Houdini photograph from the late eighteen hundreds that he was particularly proud of. Harry was the first widely known Ghost buster. The Magician had made a hobby of exposing the tricks of false mediums all over the country, masking his own deep and privately held interest in the afterlife. The picture was of Harry in chains and showed off the man's muscular arms and chest.

Dean's musings on the auction were interrupted by a loud knocking on the bathroom door. "Come on, Princess." Sam shouted. "My dick's getting cold. Get out here."

Dean shouted back. "I'll come out when I'm ready. Why don't you just shout out the window? Maybe a passing whore can take care of you."

The door slammed open. Dean had forgotten there was no lock. The shower curtain was pulled aside and Sam's hand appeared and shut off the water. A towel was thrown over Dean's head.

"Why should I have to bring in extra help when I have a perfectly good whore right here?" Sam replied and dragged Dean out of his nice warm shower stall by his arm.

Dean had recovered his attitude during the alone time in the bathroom and did not appreciate being dragged around like a particularly well defined sex doll. He pulled against Addison's restraining hand and tried to regain some control. "Look, Addison. Fun's fun but I have work to do. Let go of me."

Sam turned Dean in his arm and grabbed his chin. Remembering how this went down the previous day Dean tried to jerk his head back but it turned out to be hopeless. Addison was just as strong as he looked and once again Dean's mouth was dominated. Sam took Dean's lower lip in his teeth and chewed thoughtfully. "Open up, Princess." He ordered and tightened his arm around Dean's waist, pulling the towel loose and seizing control of Dean's mouth again.

Letting go of Dean's mouth Sam traced a path with that long, active tongue to Dean's ear. "I love me a bossy bottom." Turning Sam simultaneously pilled away Dean's towel and tossed the green-eyed bottom on the bed. Dean landed on his hands and knees and immediately tried to turn over and protect himself but it was far too late.

Sam Addison arched over Dean's back, trapping Dean's ass between his thighs and planting his long arms on either side. Sam took control of Dean's hands and pushed the smaller man's chest into the mattress.

Dean was completely constrained with his ass raised high.

Sam got up on his knees but held Dean in place with a big hand on the back of Dean's neck. Sam reached out for the bed pillows and used them to support Dean's raised ass. Dean felt the wash of warm submissive emotions starting to break through and his efforts to free himself turned into a couple of wiggles that just possibly could be interpreted as inviting.

Sam laughed and used his free hand to grab a flushing ass cheek. "Asking for it now, are you?" Dean felt cold slippery dampness dribble in his crack and again he was impressed with the way Addison planned a campaign. This was almost a rape and Dean was thrilled to his core. He rubbed his own stiffening dick again the pillows and flexed his cheek muscles. Sam lifted up and Dan heard the rustle of a condom ripping open.

"Really, Addison?" Dean murmured. "A little late for that isn't it? I rode you bare back last night."

Sam laughed. "To be trite, better late than not at all. I'm telling you slut, if you got me dirty you'll live to regret it."

Dean growled out. "I know I'm clean and you better be too. That was my first bareback ride in years. I almost forgot how good it could be."

Sam's abrupt attack with a long lubed finger was unexpected but very welcome and Dean moaned at the sudden pain and welcome pleasure. Sam leaned over to nibble on an ear lobe as a second finger joined the first. Addison's long fingers were almost enough as they massaged Dean's prostrate sending electrical arcs all the way up to the small of Dean's back. "Tell me what you want, Princess." Sam's voice was heat and desire. The deep vibrations sent wild shivers racing up and down Dean's spine and he submitted. "Fuck me, Addison." He groaned.

"No problem, Princess." Sam responded. Sam removed his fingers abruptly and the man's dick was right there demanding entrance. Dean stopped worrying about his morning schedule and welcomed the penetration. Rocking and moaning he accepted the rough fuck as Addison seemed to hit Dean's sweet spot on every thrust. Addison owned his ass. Dean's body and mind responded on a primitive, cellular level. He could lay here getting his ass pounded for hours and enjoy it.

Sam thrusts stuttered and Dean was so close that was all it took to push the green eyed beauty over the edge. The hotel's pillows were ruined and Sam drove Dean into the mattress with the strength of his orgasm.

The world slowed down and stopped. When Dean opened his eyes again all he knew was the warm comforting feeling of the larger man's cock up his ass. He was safe and content in his lover's arms.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

Time had stopped. When Sam finally decided to withdraw and lay down beside the smaller man Dean was sorry when the world rushed in on his perfect peace. He pushed the damp pillows on the floor and curled into Sam's side.

Sam looked down at Dean's head and pulled the blonde closer. When Dean raised his head to look into Sam's face Sam immediately planted a kiss on those slightly swollen and trembling lips.

"You're awfully pretty right after you've been thoroughly fucked." Sam said to him. "Good start to your day, I assume?"

Dean moaned and sat up, stretching his arms over his head and uncurling his spine. "Now I have to start all over again," he complained looking around for his clothes.

Sam reached up and pulled on the neck chain. "This looks good on you too. The one I have coming will look even better. Wait until you see how pretty it is. Everyone will be able to see it."

Sam rolled off his side of the bed then looked back at Dean over his shoulder. "If you're going to go get cleaned up be sure to put the plug back in. I might want you for lunch."

"Jesus," Dean grumbled. "I'm said I'm not here just for your pleasure. I have an auction to run."

"My point exactly," Sam answered. "You don't want all that come dripping down your legs in the showroom, do you? Put the plug back in. It's just another reminder for you. Remember what I said about catching you flirting."

Dean rolled off his side of the bed and gathering his clothes as he crossed the room went back to the bathroom. When he had his hand on the door knob he was still deciding if he was going to obey Sam's instructions or not. Sam shouted after him "Put if back in. I mean it."

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

They kissed in Sam's open door and Dean left for downstairs. He was amused to catch sight of Andy sitting on a folding chair next to the elevator. As Dean walked by he saluted his bodyguard and Andy gave him a sour look. Andy turned his eyes away from Dean and focused them back on Sam's door.

"Come on, Andy." Dean said. "Leave the guy alone. I'm fine" Dean put out his arms and spun around. "See, no bruises and everything still works."

Andy huffed and folded up his newspaper. "Yeah, you're just peachy except for the hickey on your neck and the fact that you're waddling like a duck."

"Shut up." Dean responded. "I've been a lot worse before."

"Well, you're out in a public place now and there's an auction downstairs you're supposed to be watching over." Andy stood up and pushed the button for the elevator. "Dean, you don't know this guy. You met him yesterday afternoon. I have reason to worry about you."

"Thanks, Andy." Dean responded seriously. "I appreciate your concern and I know you're right. But I like this guy and he knows how to handle me. He might possibly be a keeper so let's try not to antagonize him too much. You have to admit your job would be a lot easier if I had a steady lay."

Andy looked surprised. "You are really thinking about keeping this one? That's new. When was the last time you stuck to a single guy?"

The elevator arrived and Dean and Andy had it all to themselves. "You know, Addison calls me a slut too." Dean said. "Would it be all that surprising if I hooked up with someone?"

Andy laughed. "It would be a big relief. I thought I was going to watch you run through all the available guys on Manhattan. I never have figured out what you were looking for."

Dean leaned in and punched Andy in the arm. "Well, what did you expect me to do? You broke my heart when you turned me down."

"I told you back then," Andy responded with a straight face. "Luke doesn't like threesomes."

Dean snickered back. "And I told you I didn't mind being your bit of fluff on the side."

The elevator stopped on the lobby floor. When the doors slid open Andy pushed Dean out. "Go on and take care of your auction, Mr. Winchester. I don't think you new boyfriend is going to put up with your flirting. Nice neck chain, by the way."

Den glanced at Andy's face. "Oh, you noticed that, did you? Sam says he has a better one coming by messenger this afternoon."

Andy followed Dean over to the auction rooms. "I mean it, Dean. Make damn sure this guy isn't after your money. I would hate to have to try to take him down. He's one big guy."

Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket as he nodded good morning to Paul Wisner. "Hey Andy," Dean said as he opened the door. "Do we need another couple of guys? When do you and Paul get to sleep?"

"Don't' worry your head about the security arrangements." Andy responded. "I already called Melody and Dan Applegate is on his way. He'll get here by lunch. That's my job you're trying to micro mange. You go take care of the pretties and let me take care of the guns."


	6. Chapter 6 - The Second Night

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 6**

**The Second Night**

**From Chapter 5**

_Nice neck chain, by the way."_

_Den glanced at Andy's face. "Oh, you noticed that, did you? Sam says he has a better one coming by messenger this afternoon."_

_Andy followed Dean over to the auction rooms. "I mean it, Dean. Make damn sure this guy isn't after your money. I would hate to have to try to take him down. He's one big guy."_

_Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket as he nodded good morning to __Paul Wisner. "Hey Andy," Dean said as he opened the door. "Do we need another couple of guys? When do you and Paul get to sleep?"_

"_Don't worry your head about the security arrangements." Andy responded. "I already called Melody and Dan Applegate is on his way. He'll get here by lunch. That's my job you're trying to micro mange. You go take care of the pretties and let me take care of the guns."_

**Chapter 6**

Dean unlocked the auction room suite and flipped on the lights. He then strolled around the display pedestals and made his selections for the auction's second night. As he walked around he kept catching sight of himself in the mirrors scattered around the room. He had dressed carefully. Today he wanted to be the high powered business man, not the pretty boy looking for someone to make him behave.

His soft gray business suit was obviously tailored to fit him perfectly. The lighter gray shirt was the perfect background for a tie of a slightly darker hue with touches of silver and a green stipe that echoed the color of his eyes. He was walking perfection. Even dressed up as the Winchester Rarities owner he was a mouthwatering piece of ass and he knew it. He always had fun playing the unobtainable gem. He knew very well that there would be at least a couple of men attending who wouldn't be able to take their eyes off him. He knew they would be there because he had invited them.

Dean wandered through the display pedestals, turning on the small pinpoint lights as he went. Each item glowed in its own spotlight highlighted against the dimness of the room. The only ceiling lights that would be allowed during the auction were the ones directly over the seating. The auctioneer had to be able to see the bid paddles after all. If there was a way to allow the items to float in darkness like the magic treasures they were Dean would have loved it.

Now was the time when Dean's gift was exercised. He instinctively knew how one item would lead to the next. His instincts were often proved right as Winchester Rarities auctions often ran with the prices rising higher as the end drew in sight; the opposite of most auctions. Usually the most choice, therefore most expensive items were set out first. Dean found that often led to the buyers with the most purchase power leaving before the auction closed. He liked the crowd. He enjoyed the tension as greedy, grasping buyers bid against each other, sometimes out of spite.

Of course, most of the decisions had already been made. He needed lot numbers for the catalogue whenever possible although sometimes pieces simply had no number. That allowed him to play to the crowd. He also could move pieces from day to day or remove them from the auction altogether if he felt things were not going his way. Even though the catalogue listed the Lincoln Daguerreotype on day two when he stood in front of the case he flipped the light off. Next to it he also flipped off the light on the soldier's bloody uniform. He had finally decided to move them both to day 3.

After this first run through he looked back at the lighted display pedestals and compared them to his catalogue; the Borgia ring with its blood red ruby, the Crowley Tarot deck, the Catherine de' Medic mirror, the Portsmouth Hand of Glory, the Harry Houdini photograph.

He also had a "Heart of Damballa", a Voodoo amulet which, while not particularly rare, was a sacred item and could get his pink ass in a lot of trouble with the religious types. It had been reverently laid out on a white alter cloth which had been carefully embroidered with the Vere of Damballa, blessed by the two snake symbols. He could not be accused of irreverence.

Scattered among these items were the various nineteenth century photographs and Daguerreotypes. He also had a second Jumeau doll for sale. Unlike the doll offered on day one however, this one had been specially made for a sick child and incorporated the child's own hair. When the child died the doll had gone into the family mausoleum with her. That item made Dean feel a bit like the grave robbing distant relative of the child he had obtained it from. He could, with full conviction, guarantee that the doll had a spirt attached. The little girl had been raising havoc in the Winchester store vault.

He notated his changes on his catalogue copy. It was intended for the auctioneer's use. The man was used to Dean's ways and would make sure the changes were clearly explained to the buyers. Dean sat down at one of the glass tables to clean up his work. As he sat comparing locations and numbers for the last time he was distracted when Andy stuck his head in the door.

"Dean," Andy said. "Sam's out here and wants to talk to you. Should I let him in?"

Dean bobbed his head and waved his hand in a come forward motion. Sam appeared behind Andy, towering over the shorter man. Andy stepped to the side and let Sam pass then closed the door.

Sam looked as relaxed and as good as the first time Dean saw him. The big man smiled. "How's it going, Princess? Everything ready to go?" he drawled.

"You know Addison," Dean snapped back. "This is my auction. I'm the boss here and I think you owe me some respect on this floor. Everyone here works for me. I'm the hotel's guest and you are working for the hotel, I think. So in the daylight I'm the one in charge."

Sam moved closer. "Isn't that cute? You want to give me orders, Princess?" he put out a hand and pulled Dean off his seat and into his arms. "I'll go along for a while but only because I want a favor of you. Come over here with me." Sam wrapped his arm around Dean's waist and walked him to the Civil War Uniform's display.

"This uniform needs to be burned." Sam said

"What the hell?" Dean replied. "You already cost me money with the Guillotine blade. Now you want to burn one of my lots? Why would I do that for you?"

Sam looked down at the man on his arm. "Because there's a very sad and confused ghost upstairs that you are torturing for money, that's why. You know, Pretty, in some ways you are a bit of a vampire living off the pain of spirits."

Dean twisted out of Sam's embrace. "You don't think I know that? You don't think I have told myself that time and time again? I'll tell you what. You show me this ghost and I'll burn the uniform myself. Otherwise it's getting sold tomorrow along with the rest of the lots."

Sam turned to answer but immediately his gaze was directed to different part of the room. He was looking over Dean's shoulder at a pedestal on the other side of the floor. "Who's the child, Dean?"

Dean turned but saw nothing. He did realize he was looking directly at the haunted Jumeau doll. At that moment he felt that Sam had nothing he had to prove. If the ghost hunter could directly see the spirits attached to the items he was worth his weight in gold to Winchester Rarities. Dean almost felt like he wanted to put a chain around Sam's neck now.

"Sam," Dean started. "I think we need to have a serious talk. If you go on like this you're going to put me out of business. I have an offer I'd like to discuss in private. Can we go somewhere?"

Sam smiled. "Sure. We'll go have lunch then we'll go up to my room. You have a few hours to kill before the auction starts. We can talk and maybe have a little afternoon delight too." San smiled again, showing all his teeth. Dean felt his knees weaken.

"Whatever you want, Sam" The blonde replied. They walked to the front of the room. Sam went out the door first and Dean followed, turning to lock the door behind him. When Dean turned back around he walked directly into a man standing way too close.

"Hi Dean," the man murmured. He was tall, dark and just Dean's type. He well should be, he was one of Dean's special guests.

"Larry," Dean exclaimed "How good of you to come. I didn't know that you had arrived. Is everything to your satisfaction?"

"I just got here, Dean. So far everything is fine." Larry answered and then raised his hand to Dean's face. He lightly traced Dean's lower lip. "You also look fine."

Dean felt Sam come up behind him and a large hand landed on Dean's shoulder like a claim.

Larry's eyes flickered up to Sam's face. "It looks like maybe I got here just a little late though. Am I right, Dean?"

Dean gave the man a huge smile. After all he owed the guy something for making the trek to the wilds of North Carolina. Now the poor guy wasn't even going to get laid. "I don't know Larry. I don't have any crystal balls for sale." Dean felt Sam's hand tighten on his shoulder. He wondered if there would be a nice set of finger shaped bruises left on his skin.

Larry watched Dean flinch at the pressure. "I don't think so Dean. You look like you're going to be pretty busy."

"I think you might be right, Larry." Den replied. "I'm sorry. Let me at least get lunch for you." Dean turned to Andy standing beside the door. "Hey, Andy. Could you find someone to have lunch with Larry, here? Sam and I have a deal to discuss and I don't think that Larry's going to be interested in being a third wheel."

Andy shook his head. "Sure Dean. No problem. I was just going to lunch now too." The security man turned to Larry. "Come along. I'll show you some of the points of interest." With those cryptic words Andy led Larry away.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

When Dean and Sam appeared at the hostess station in the dining room they were immediately seated at one of the more secluded window tables. The Gladstone staff was very good at figuring which side of the bread the butter was on. They didn't miss a trick; an outright tribute to their gossip network. Of course, Sam's possessive arm around Dean's waist was also a pretty strong signal that this pair needed their privacy.

After ordering the surf and turf lunch special Dean got right down to business. He suggested that Sam might be of great value to Dean's firm as a consultant, on a monthly retainer, of course. Dean wanted to be able to call on Sam to go out to customers who had come to realize that perhaps a ghost might not be the most pleasant of house guests.

The two men danced around each other throughout the lunch. Dean could justify the expense to the business with the profit he could turn on Sam's expertise and Sam knew that this deal would not have been offered if he didn't make the Winchester scion weak in the knees.

Sam responded by pointing out that a monthly retainer did not mean that Dean was buying himself a permanent bed partner. Sam would remain free to make his own choices. Dean's answered right back was wherever Sam picked to park his ass at night was completely up to the Hunter. If Sam wanted to sleep in a nice Park view apartment when he was in New York for any reason Dean knew a place he would be welcome.

While they were drinking their post lunch coffees the waiter appeared with a package for Sam. Sam signed for it and then stood up. "I think we have a deal, Dean." The tall Hunter said and put out his hand. Dean stood also. They shook on the idea but then Sam didn't let go of Dean's hand.

"I think I'm ready for the afternoon's entertainment now. Come alone, Princess." Sam grinned.

As Sam led Dean out of the dining room they passed Dean's bed buddy Larry seated at a nice table with a charming young man. As they passed Larry raised his wine glass to Dean in a salute. No hard feelings there Dean thought. He'd have to ask Andy how that happened so quickly.

Heading for the elevators Dean ran into yet another man he had invited for the weekend. Ron Wiseman was a guy Dean had dated previously. Winchester knew Ron could be a lot of fun and he was very aggressive in bed. When Dean had been planning the week end Ron had been at the top of Dean's list.

Ron glanced at Dean with a predatory smile but then looked up at Sam. Dean watched the wheels go around in Ron's head and found it fascinating. Ron always had given the impression that he was pretty smart. Inside of a couple of seconds the man nodded good bye and headed for the dining room. Not a word was exchanged but everyone knew exactly where they stood.

Inside the elevator Sam turned to Dean and asked "Two different men?"

"Actually there are three but I haven't seen the third one yet. The Auction is scheduled for three nights, after all." Den answered and shifted his eyes to the elevator floor display, avoiding the look on Sam's face.

"You really are the perfect slut, aren't you Dean?" Sam softly growled.

The doors opened on the second floor and Sam made as if to leave but Dean held him back and punched the button for the third floor. "Why don't we just try my room for a change?" he said. "You can check out just how perfect I am and I like my view better."

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

On the third floor Dean led the way to the suite at the end of the hall. Once there he threw open the double doors and exposed the sitting room. This was a three room suite and it was gorgeous. The leather and glass motif was completely modern. There was a private bar in creamy marble. A wide screen TV floated over the bar and music had started to play as soon as the entrance doors had opened.

At the end of the room floor to ceiling windows displayed the North Carolina landscape framing the distant Atlantic. Dean headed for the bar. "Do you want beer or are you in the mood for something stronger?" he asked. "I know what. Why don't we drink to our new deal?"

The blonde pulled out a couple of wine glasses and a bottle of champagne from under the bar.

"Look here, Dom Perignon, 2000 Vintage Brut. The hotel manager is kissing up and doing a half way decent job of it." Dean smiled. He filled a couple of flutes and brought them over to Sam's couch.

He perched on the arm of Sam's seat and handled over one glass to his lover. Sam sipped and wrinkled his nose. "I'm not much of a drinker." He said. "I have other things on my mind." With that remark he laid a large hand on Dean's leg and wrapped it around Winchester's thigh.

"By the way, I have something to tell you if we are getting into actual written agreements. My name is not Addison. It's Campbell, Samuel Campbell. I had personal reasons for going hidden. Not a legal problem I assure you. Don't worry. I just thought you should know."

Leaning forward Sam put his glass down on the table and picked up the package that had been delivered at lunch.

"I have a present for you Princess." Sam turned sideways and looked Dean over. "You look very nice today. I suppose you're dressed up for the auction. I must say you look really classy. If you want to stay that way I suggest you go get naked and hang up the suit. I'll wait here for you." Sam leaned back and started picking at the package wrappings. "Go on, get going. How long do we have before you have to be downstairs?"

Dean snickered. "I don't have to be back down stairs until around six. If I have to get naked, what about you?'

Sam pushed on Dean's legs. "Never you worry about me. You just go do as you're told then come back here and get down on your knees. Move it."

Dean's Alpha side was currently in ascendancy after an afternoon of issuing orders and making decisions but he felt the warmth of submission beginning to build, triggered by thoughts of being naked while Sam was fully dressed. The warmth spread from his belly outward, flushing his cheeks, tingling in his dick and making him want more. He trailed off to his closet to hang up the gray suit with care.

He returned completely naked and obediently knelt down at Sam's knees.

Sam lifted a shining silver chocker out of the package and handed it to Dean.

"A choker?" Dean gasped. "I can't wear a choker. Everyone will be able to see it."

Sam leaned forward and wrapped his hand around the back of Dean's neck. "That's the idea Princess." He whispered. "We're not going to have any more demonstrations like you put on this afternoon with your boyfriends. Look at it."

Dean lifted the choker closer. It was a curved inscribed band that would most likely be a snug fit around his neck. The outside had simple flowing lines etched all around and right in front was a complicated symbol of pointed star surrounded by flames. Right in the center was inset a deep green Peridot. The inside of the choker was also inscribed with symbols and writing in an unknown language. The entire piece glowed softly and Dean could see the object being offered at one of his auctions easily.

Sam picked the piece out of Dean's hands. "Turn around Princess." He ordered and Dean obeyed. Just as he expected the choker fit snug but there was free space too. He could feel Sam's fingers between the choker and the back of his neck. There was a small snap and the chain necklace he had been wearing since yesterday slithered down his body and on to the floor.

"Hold still Pretty," Sam said softly. "I have to get this closed now." There was a rush of heat on the back of Dean's neck.

"What are you doing back there?" he asked.

"Sealing it on," Sam replied. "You won't get this off without my help. If you try to force it you'll destroy it. Only I can release the lock."

Dean objected. "You mean I can't get this off? I can't wear something like this to meetings or at work."

Sam stood and pulled Dean up with him. They walked over to the full length mirror on the bathroom door and Sam held him in front and let Dean look at himself. The choker did look damn good on him. Collared and claimed he was more desirable than ever.

Sam smiled over his shoulder. "See how good you look in it? I had to wait for the jeweler to put the Peridot in. I wanted to match your eyes. The choker itself I've had for a fairly long time. You might call it a family heirloom."

Sam pushed Dean's head back against his shoulder and captured his lips in one of those Sam special dominating kisses. Sam ran his hands everywhere as he clutched Dean to his body.

"I don't see what your problem is with the choker. It just states what everyone knows. You flaunt your body constantly. You wear it to your meetings and to your store. I don't see the difference. At least this way everyone knows you're not looking for new meat all the time."

"Which reminds me," Sam went on. "You're due for some punishment for that little exhibition you put on down stairs. I told you no flirting." Suddenly Sam thrust his thigh between Dean's legs and pushed up. "Just where is your plug, Princess? That's two rules broken. I know I told you to leave it in."

"I can't wear a plug when I'm working, Addison." Dean answered.

"Campbell," Sam said. "I think I'll call that rule number three. You aren't listening to me when I tell you something."

Sam pulled Dean along to the big couch and pushed him over the back. Dean was posed with his naked ass in the air and his arms braced on the couch cushions. Sam held him down with a hand on the back of his neck.

"You're looking good there, Princess." He heard Sam say just before his ass was punished with a smack that cracked like a whip. This was nothing like the spanking he had got in bed yesterday. Sam had room to swing now and the force of the blow drove Dean forward.

"Damn it Sam, that stung." He yelped. A second smack, just as loud and possibly harder landed immediately after he spoke.

"Be quiet, Dean." Sam ordered. "Take your punishment and keep your mouth shut. It's looking pretty good back here. Your ass is coloring up nicely. You have perfect hand prints and I'll bet they bruise too. Three more to go. Hold on."

After his punishment was over Dean's ass was on fire but his dick was as hard as a rock. He dearly wanted to orgasm as quickly as possible. He had gotten erections other times when he had been hurt accidently by one of his angry lovers but he truly had no idea that it was such a turn on for him. The burn of his ass was matched by the submissive heat in his belly. He moaned. "Sam, I need help here."

Sam pulled him up and threw him over his shoulder. They went to the master bedroom and Sam threw him on the bed.

"Ankles in the air, Princess." Sam laughed as he started pulling his clothes off. "We have hours yet to go."


	7. Chapter 7 - End of the Day

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 7**

**End of the Day**

**From Chapter 6**

_After his punishment was over Dean's ass was on fire but his dick was as hard as a rock. He dearly wanted to orgasm as quickly as possible. He had gotten erections other times when he had been hurt accidently by one of his angry lovers but he truly had no idea that it was such a turn on for him. The burn of his ass was matched by the submissive heat in his belly. He moaned. "Sam, I need help here."_

_Sam pulled him up and threw him over his shoulder. They went to the master bedroom and Sam threw him on the bed. _

"_Ankles in the air, Princess." Sam laughed as he started pulling his clothes off. "We have hours yet to go."_

**Chapter 7**

Dean landed with a thump, smiling. Damn, he was one lucky bastard. He had been looking for a lover like Sam all his life. Now all he had to do was not screw it up. He snuggled down into the comforter and spread his legs. The inflamed skin on his ass made it feel like he could trace the patterns in the quilt, a different one with each cheek. He couldn't help himself. He grabbed his own dick while he watched Sam's strip tease.

Sam scanned over the naked man in the bed. Damn, he was one lucky bastard. No one had ever turned him on like this slut did. He watched, entranced, as Dean rubbed his ass on the quilt and wiggled in invitation. His smiled deepened and he could feel his dimples develop as he watched Winchester pump his own dick. Evidently the slut liked to be spanked. Sam thought he'd just keep that in mind for the future. There could be ropes and belts and all kinds of fun coming. He snickered at the thought and the phrasing.

Sam pulled the lube out of his pants pocket before tossing the jeans to the side. Now naked he climbed on the King sized bed and knelt between Winchester's open legs. Slathering the lube in his hand he first helped Dean along by donating some of the slick to Dean's dick. Grabbing on below Dean's hand he slicked Dean's pole up.

When Dean's hand let go, obviously trying to turn the job over to Sam, Sam grabbed the hand and held on.

"Just keep it up , slut." Sam growled. "While you jerk yourself off I'm going to be busy somewhere else."

Pouring even more lube into his hand Sam went to work on the crease separating Dean's still rosy red ass cheeks. He slicked from the blonde's perineum to the dimples at the top of those hot cheeks. In passing a long finger brutally assaulted Dean's entrance, pushing harshly through the sphincter to lodge deep inside the warm silk walled passage.

Dean arced on the bed, making an erotic noise half way between a scream and a moan. Sam smiled and continued to plunge. Dean flailed his legs weakly and jerked his dick harder. Finally Sam took pity. He pulled Dean's ass onto the incline of his thighs and rammed his way in.

Suspended between pain and pleasure Dean was incoherent. As Sam pounded his ass like a drum, Dean jerked off. The two of them beat faster and when they finally climaxed they did it together.

There was quiet in the room as Dean's screams faded away, He was reduced to moans as Sam continued to wiggle his half hard dick in Dean's ass, teasing out the last few tingles.

"Get out of me, Campbell," Dean finally gathered enough strength to talk. "I got to get up, get clean and dress up to meet my customers. I can't spend the whole afternoon letting you assault me."

Sam wiggled again, eliciting one last whimper then leaned forward to capture Dean's lips. "You'll do as you're told." He whispered into Dean's ear. "I'll let you know when you can get up."

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

Sam watched from the bed as Dean took a shower and then got all dressed back up in his gray suit. The collar matched perfectly. Dean was business perfection from his toes to his necktie and pure collared sex from there on up. The soft shine of the choker enhanced the sparkle of the inset Peridot. Dean was beautiful and flaunted it.

"Are you just going to lie in bed all afternoon and wait for me, Campbell?" Dean turned and looked at his lover. "Or are you going to get dressed and come down stairs for the auction?"

Sam smiled, laid back and folded his arms under his head comfortably. He wagged his now flaccid dick at Dean. "Which thought gives you more pleasure, slut?" he asked.

Dean stood over the long, tall, muscled hunk of seduction that was Sam Campbell. "As much as I would like to climb back on that bed and take a ride I have to go make money now." He sighed. "How else am I going to keep you in comfortable soft beds and fancy food? I have to pay your retainer somehow."

"You forget who the whore is here, Princess." Sam replied. "Now spin around, I want to see you from all sides."

Dean complied, stopping on the way around to shake his ass in Sam's face.

Sam laughed. "Nice one Winchester. There just better be a plug in that ass. Remember, you only shake that rump for me now. If I catch you flirting again you'll find out what my belt feels like tickling your cheeks, so be good. Go on, you can go now. I'll be down in a while. Stay out of trouble."

Dean glanced at his watch. He had plenty of time left. Outside the door he found Andy and his ever faithful folding chair waiting for him.

"Did you have a good time, Dean?" Andy asked as he folded up his newspaper. "It sure sounded like you did. Ready for work now?"

Dean and his body guard made for the elevator. "Have you been up here eavesdropping the whole time, you pervert?'" Dean laughed.

"It's a dirty job but someone has to do it." Andy replied while watching the floor indicator blink. "That precious ass of yours keeps a lot of people in a job so I'm going to make sure that you stay safe."

The doors opened and the two men stepped in.

"Nice piece of new jewelry you've got there.'" Andy said. "Sam's gift I suppose. He sure is declaring his property, I have to say. Has he branded his name on your ass yet? What's next? Matching tattoos?"

When the doors opened on the first floor Dean stepped out into a whirlwind of activity. Various people were gathered near the auction room doors, consulting catalogues or just chatting. All the lobby chairs and couches were full and bar maids were scurrying around delivering orders.

Other groups were passing through on their way to the hotel dining room. Dean glanced at his watch again checking the time. It was more than an hour before the auction would begin. He was evidently creating a lot of business for the hotel. Even if his ghosts might be causing problems throughout the building it was pretty likely that Manager Gardner would be bending over backwards to get Winchester Rarities to return again next year.

Paul Wisner was standing in front of the double doors. Dean turned and whispered to Andy "Did Dan Applegate show up?"

"He's inside." Andy answered. "We're not here just to watch your sweet ass; we have some pretty expensive objects to monitor too."

"Cute," Dean snorted. "One of these days, Andy, you're going to find that line you're looking for."

"And I'm willing to bet you will have crossed it long before me." Andy shot back. "Come on Winchester, get to work and circulate. Kiss up to your buyers. "

Dean approached a clump of older men, some of who were very familiar. He was careful to mind his manners. Some of these men were old acquaintances left over from Dean's father's time. One of them, Eric Grantham, had popped Dean's cherry at the ripe age of thirteen. John Winchester had never known. If he had Dean would have been walking funny for a month and not from having a good time. Grantham most likely would not be walking at all. He would be dead.

"Dean, how are you? How nice to see you," came a chorus of greetings from the group. Eric Grantham's hungry eyes fastened on Dean's collar. Dean was quite aware that Grantham was very willing to make an exception in Dean's case and would waive his bed partners' standard age limit if he could get his hands on Dean again. The last time Grantham had come to an Auction Dean's ass had developed a nice crop of bruises from getting pinched repeatedly. Dean stayed as far from those hands as possible.

Jeff Markham spoke up. "So what do you have for us tonight, Dean?"

Dean snagged a drink off a passing tray and entered into a discussion of the night's offerings. A couple of the older men were a little put out when Dean mentioned that the Lincoln Daguerreotype was being moved to Sunday night. Dean had expected it. These two were one of the prime reasons Dean had decided to move the piece. Neither of them would want the other to add the prize to their collection. Dean was depending on them to drive the price up.

Eric Grantham chimed in. The man could not help himself. "What's with the choker, Dean? Is this a new fashion among your generation?"

A heavy hand landed on Dean's shoulder. "I gave it to him." Sam said.

A number of the older men turned away and ignored the obvious innuendo. Grantham just looked hungry and pissed.

"How nice," Grantham said and tossed down the rest of his drink. "You two must be pretty close friends. Either that or Dean's price just took another leap upwards."

Dean jerked his head back in surprise. Dean was bigger than most of these old men and he knew that Sam towered over him. That Grantham felt free to insult then that way was a surprise.

Dean replied. "That was nasty and uncalled for Eric. Maybe you've had enough to drink."

Grantham glared at the couple and walked away.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

An hour later the door opened and the crowd filed in. The auction floor was perfect. The lots floated in their discreetly lighted display cases. The backs of the rooms were shrouded in the dark, suggesting hidden treasure yet to be displayed. Sam and Dean sat all the way in the back so that Dean could observe the flow of the bids and be able to signal the auctioneer without everyone in the room staring at the back of his head.

Sam sat at his side, one arm thrown over the back of Dean's chair with his fingers lightly tracing the upper edge of Dean's collar over and over. Occasionally those fingers moved up and combed through Dean's hair. Sam was the perfect picture of a dominating Alpha. A number of the men in the room knew Dean's tastes and the two of them were like something out of fantasy. Den suspected they would be playing parts in a number of dreams tonight.

The auction rolled on. The money added up and the room was floating in tension.

The Crowley Tarot deck went for more than Dean expected. That was a nice surprise. Maybe Crowley's brand of spiritualism was raising its ugly head again. Dean made a mental note to keep an eye out.

The biggest surprise however was the Jumeau doll. It was a nice piece, special ordered for the dead child obviously since her hair was used. Perhaps it was because it could be traced to a historically recognizable family. Whatever the reason it became the object of a three way bidding war. Two collectors who despised each other Dan recognized. The third corner was unexpected. Joel Reasoner was an agent for a buyer from outside the auction floor. Anonymity could be a consideration in some cases. Joel was checking bids over the phone with someone who really wanted the doll. Finally the three bidders exhausted themselves and the doll went for double what Dean expected.

Joel's was the winning bid and Dean was pleased for the man. Dean always sent an invitation out to Joel who proved time and time again that he had a very good client base to work with. Dean made yet another note to send Joel a thank you gift. He leaned over to put his lips next to Sam's ear. "If you still want to burn that uniform the doll just covered it for me. I give the jacket to you. Do whatever your want with it but I want to go with you to find the ghost."

Sam patted Dean's knee and they both turned their attention back to the auction.


	8. Chapter 8 - Come Away with Me, My Love

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 8**

**Come Away with Me, My Love**

**From Chapter 7**

_Joel Reasoner was an agent for a buyer from outside the auction floor. Anonymity could be a consideration in some cases. Joel was checking bids over the phone with someone who really wanted the doll. Finally the three bidders exhausted themselves and the doll went for double what Dean expected._

_Joel's was the winning bid and Dean was pleased for the man. Dean always sent an invitation out to Joel who proved time and time again that he had a very good client base to work with. Dean made yet another note to send Joel a thank you gift. He leaned over to put his lips next to Sam's ear. "If you still want to burn that uniform the doll just covered it for me. I give the jacket to you. Do whatever your want with it but I want to go with you to find the ghost."_

_Sam patted Dean's knee and they both turned their attention back to the auction. _

**Chapter 8**

Day two of the auction was over. Dean was very satisfied. He couldn't have picked any better reserves than he had done, again proving to the collectors that John's son was more than just a pretty face. He stood and stretched. Sam rose up behind him and placed possessive hands on his waist. The lights made his new collar gleam. In his silver collar and his form fitting gray suit he was just as pretty as any other piece in the room.

One by one the collectors came over to offer their congratulations and make enquiries about any surprises held back for the third and final day. Dean smiled, shook hands and called each and every one by name. Sam glowed with the pride of ownership and was pleased when Dean leaned back against his chest. Winchester was a jewel in a perfect setting.

Some of the older men did not approve but their love of money in all its forms made Dean's personal foibles excusable in their eyes. They smiled and nodded and shook his hand. If their eyes flickered up to Sam's face in speculation, that was their fantasy and they could keep it to themselves. Only Eric Grantham had the gall to make a crack about "boys and their toys" Dean ignored the sour grapes.

When the last buyer left the room Sam flipped Dean around and, holding him tightly, kissed the hell out of his pretty boy. Sam's kiss was dominating, crushing and the best ending to an auction Dean ever had. It made the whole evening perfect. Dean melted into Sam's embrace. He wanted to climb up and wrap his legs around his lover right then and there.

Andy and Paul entered the room in time to stop the removal of any of Dean's clothes.

"Take it to your room, you two." Andy laughed. "We got to shut this down and deliver the goods to the hotel vault. The buyers are waiting and I don't want their money to get cold."

Dan Applegate appeared from behind the auctioneer's podium where he had been unobtrusively watching over the auction all night. Dean had actually forgotten that Dan was back there. That was Dan's particular gift; a valuable one for a security professional. It was almost like Dan was absorbed into the walls.

Dean untangled himself from Sam's grip. "Andy, I need the Civil War Jacket, please. I'm taking it out of the auction."

Andy raised an eyebrow but moved to the case and unlocked it. Pulling the jacket out he dropped it into a self-sealing bag he took from behind the pedestal and handed it over to Dean.

"Thanks, Andy. If you need me for anything I'll be up in my room with Sam. If I don't see you guys again tonight, all of you have a good evening." Dean smiled and handed the bagged uniform over to Sam with a smile then laced his fingers in Sam's free hand. He headed for the exit doors on his way to the elevator. Sam trailed behind him their entwined hands making the Hunter a willing captive.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

Back in Dean's suite again Sam tossed the jacket on the dresser and then flopped on the bed. Dean made for the closet to hang up his suit. He stuck his head out the door as he stripped.

"So, we're going on a ghost hunt, right? You're going to introduce me to the Civil War soldier who bled on that jacket?" Dean finished pulling off his clothes and picked up a T-shirt.

Sam replied. "You got it Princess."

"A T-shirt and jeans are the proper clothes for a ghost hunt, right?" Dean mumbled as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Hey," Sam laughed. "What are you doing in there?"

"I'm getting changed." Dean answered. "I'm not wearing my suit up in the attic."

"Well just stop it and get over here. It's just barely ten o'clock. We aren't going upstairs until two at the earliest. We've got four hours to fill and I feel like ordering a snack and maybe taking a bite of you too." Sam reached for the room service menu and sat up on the side of the bed.

Dean walked out of the closet dressed only in his green T-shirt and his collar. He climbed on the bed behind Sam and started to massage his lover's neck muscles.

"That's nice, Princess," Sam dropped his head and relaxed. "You have any idea of what you'd like to eat?"

"You mean other than you?" Dean leaned forward and breathed In Sam's ear.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

Dean rubbed Sam's shoulders until the big guy was almost purring and reduced to a flexible state of relaxation. When Dean's hands finally slowed Sam reached back and dragged his half naked lover into his lap. There was a lot of kissing and nuzzling but nothing serious, merely playful. Dinner was on the way after all.

At the knock on the door Dean slid under the sheets and Sam went to let the waiter in. The man wanted to set their table for them but Sam asked him to just leave the cart. He tipped well, overriding the waiter's objections and after they were alone again he wheeled the cart over next to the bed. Sam sat on the side of the mattress and fed Dean steamed shrimp and bites of lobster tail.

Dean sat up with the covers pooling around his hips and they laughed their way through the meal. They shared the wine in a single glass and kissed between courses. It was as relaxed and as intimate as these two had been at any time during their long weekend.

When the food was finished Sam held out a hand and helped Dean up out of the bed. The big man turned their now favorite chair so that it faced the window and pulled Dean down on his lap. Dean's head rested against Sam's chest. They were facing east and the sunset was on the wrong side of the hotel but they could watch as the night sky spread over the face of the ocean. Bright clear stars cut through the air, their light dancing on the heaving waves.

Sam began to speak of his past life; the travel, the danger, the friends lost to monsters unsuspected by most of humanity. Dean listened in silence but could not but compare their childhoods. He imagined Sam alone, cold and frightened, left in an empty car. He thought of his own loneliness; abandoned to nannies and uncaring servants, wandering big empty rooms that echoed his footsteps

He spoke to Sam of the loss of his mother and of his father's ever increasing distance as he mourned her death. Dean also mourned but by himself. He was supposed to forget her. He was young, they said. He'll get over it, they said. He never did.

As he aged Sam turned more and more to the darkness that lurked in the shadows. He feasted on violence and blood. Each creature down thickened his scars; buried his grief deeper inside. It worked pretty well up until Daniel died.

Dean had turned to casual sex to fill the emptiness inside. He looked for a connection and a harbor; deceived by the false warmth of sex. It had never worked. After each brief affair he was left as empty as when he started. It felt good for a while and he pursued that false comfort again and again.

Sam whispered to Dean about his fear that it was his fault that Daniel died. If he had listened to the warnings in his head; if he had trusted his dreams, he might have been able to protect Daniel better. His carelessness had gotten Daniel killed. Dean comforted his lover and denied the connation between Daniel's death and Sam's dreams.

Dean pulled Sam's arms closer around him and sank deeper into his lover's embrace. Sam provided Dean with that elusive safe harbor he had hunted all his life. Sam held more tightly to the man in his lap. Dean was beginning to melt the ice around Sam's heart. Sam rested his chin on the top of Dean's head and they sat and watched the night engulf the world. Their quiet contemplation was rewarded by a meteor shower streaking high up in the atmosphere. They laughed at and cheered each heavenly strike.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

Dean drifted to sleep in Sam's arms as Sam kept watch through the night. Just shy of two o'clock Sam woke his lover.

"Hey, Princess" Sam murmured. "You want to go meet a ghost before I send it on its way?"

Dean wake to chilly legs and warm shoulders. Finally getting off Sam's lap he went looking for his jeans and boots.

"Get yourself a jacket too." Sam advised. "It gets cold up in that attic. I should know. I've already spent one night up there."

"Where exactly are you going to burn that jacket, Sam?" Dean asked.

"Right now about the only idea I have is to take it outside and scrape a hole in the ground." Sam replied.

Dean waved at the end of the room. "There's a fireplace here. I wonder if it works."

They went over and looked. The fireplace looked workable. There was a grate and even kindling and logs in a brass locker on the hearth. They checked that the flu moved and considered their options.

"I think I'll call the desk, just to make sure." Dean said. "If it's OK with the hotel we should set it up before we go upstairs. If we do it right we should be able to lite it right up when we get back."

They laid the fire and a few minutes later were using the attic key that Randy Gardner had given Sam days ago. They entered the dark and dusty cavern and sat down on an old rolled up rug opposite the window where Sam had found the ghost patrolling two nights previously. It was getting close to three AM and Dean found himself wrapped up in Sam's arms again.

When the light of the false dawn finally outlined the window Sam nudged Dean awake and they watched as the sad, gray, almost transparent outline of the soldier, dragging his long gun, paced before the window, gazing east. The soldier's footsteps rang hollow on the wooden floor. Dean was struck by the combined look of sorrow, confusion and grief on the ghost's face. He couldn't even wait to get downstairs and get that jacket burned.

Sam said burning it would release this man from his nightly patrol. It would finally give the soldier peace and allow him to go home.

When the sun rose over the ocean and morning light flooded the attic the now two ghost hunters headed back to their room. Dean immediately went to the hearth and lit the kindling while Sam took the jacket out of its package and fetched a canister of salt from his room. Laying the jacket on top of the fireplace logs after Dean had gotten the fire going Sam sprinkled the salt. They stood back and watched the jacket catch fire.

Dark smoke curled up the chimney. The salt burned with a surprising delicate blue flare that was quickly lost in the flames. Dean backed up into Sam's arms, a place he was beginning to regard as home. "That did it, didn't it?" he asked.

"Should be all done." Sam replied. "If you're concerned we can go up tomorrow before dawn and see if he's still there but I think he'll be gone."

"Maybe we should check to be sure." Dean responded.

"That's a problem for another day, love." Sam replied and tugged on Dean's arm. "I think we should try to get a couple of hours of sleep before Andy busts in and wants us to do some work in the morning."

Dean Laughed. "You got him right. I'm sure he'll have a checklist for me to cover."

They stripped and finally climbed into the bed they had been circling all night. It had been used for everything except sleeping and even now Sam had a different idea. He rolled Dean to him and with one arm around the blonde's waist, used the other hand to hold Dean's head still. Sam kissed his closed eyes, the end of his nose and finally his smiling lips.

"Is this your idea of sleep?" Dean smirked.

"Shut up , Princess." Sam muttered. "I'm still the one in charge here even if you have hunted your first ghost. You did not earn any new rights or privileges. If I say spread 'em, you spread 'em."

"You know you're a real charmer, Sam." Dean yelped as Sam's wrapped an oversize hand around an ass cheek.

"Princess, you're really lucky I'm tired. If I had the energy to get it up I'd have you saddle up and ride." Sam yawned. "Right now we're going to sleep so quiet down."


	9. Chapter 9 - Sunday Afternoon

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 9**

**Sunday Afternoon**

**From Chapter 8**

_They stripped and finally climbed into the bed they had been circling all night. It had been used for everything except sleeping and even now Sam had a different idea. He rolled Dean to him and with one arm around the blonde's waist, used the other hand to hold Dean's head still. Sam kissed his closed eyes, the end of his nose and finally his smiling lips._

"_Is this your idea of sleep?" Dean smirked._

"_Shut up , Princess." Sam muttered. "I'm still the one in charge here even if you have hunted your first ghost. You did not earn any new rights or privileges. If I say spread 'em, you spread 'em."_

"_You know you're a real charmer, Sam." Dean yelped as Sam's wrapped an oversize hand around an ass cheek._

"_Princess, you're really lucky I'm tired. If I had the energy to get it up I'd have you saddle up and ride." Sam yawned. "Right now we're going to sleep so quiet down."_

**Chapter 9**

Just as they had expected, Andy let them sleep until just after ten. At least he didn't come and beat on the door, announcing to the entire second floor that the lovers were still in bed. He called Dean's phone over and over until the annoying fake ringing telephone noise got Dean out of Sam's arms to hunt for his pants.

"What?" Dean snapped into the phone. "What do you want?"

"Don't pull that tone with me, Winchester," Andy snapped hack. "Get your butt down here and tend to your business. I'm waiting for you in the main room. Hurry up."

"Was that Andy?" Sam said, rolling over in bed and stretching. "I guess it's time for you to get to work, Princess. I'm getting use to this high life style. I'm going to expect you to keep it up." He yawned and scratched his belly.

"Good one, Campbell." Dean replied. "Get up and get dressed if you expect me to feed you."

Dean headed for the shower. His mind was fully engaged in considering today's lots and in arranging the pretties in glowing rows in his head. It was a bit of a shock when other hands took over messaging the shampoo into his hair.

He went with the flow and dropped his head forward to take full advantage of the long fingers at work. In a bit Sam flipped him around to tilt his head under the shower head and rise out the shampoo. Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of all male musk just under the floral scented soap.

Sam's slick hands trailed down Dean's chest; fingers lightly outlining the mounds and dips of Dean's body. A nipple was pinched in passing and then Sam's nails were scratching and teasing Dean's public hair. Dean needed to hang on to Sam's neck to stay upright; his wrists crossed behind his lover's head.

Finally Sam wrapped his hand around his lover's dick and Dean melted. At that moment there was nothing that Dean would not do as long as Sam kept his hand moving.

"You like this, don't you, Pretty?" Sam whispered then licked Dean's damp ear. All that Dean could do was nod. Every inch of his skin belonged to Sam and he could do whatever he liked. It was all perfect as far as Dean could tell.

When Sam reached back between his legs Dean followed Sam's previous instructions and "spread 'em" Sam laughed.

"What a lovely slut you are, Princess."

Sam turned Dean back to face the water. Then he bent Dean's body forward with a firm hand on his neck. Dean's braced his hands on the shower stall wall and waited with his legs spread. Sam first kindly used his slick fingers to open the blonde but didn't waste too much time.

Sam gripped Dean's waist and impaled him forcefully. Braced against the wall Dean swung between pain and pleasure, finally settling on pleasure's side. Sam wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him upright and used the other hand to start stripping Dean's dick. Dean was amazed at his lover's strength. He would have collapsed if Sam wasn't holding him up like a large and wet doll.

It took only minutes for both of them to succumb to pleasure. Dean painted the wall white while Sam filled Dean's tight ass. They stood there for some time, locked together as the warm water cascaded over them both.

Finally Dean groaned and muttered "Andy." Sam snorted. "You're really thinking about another man, Princess?"

Dean leaned back against Sam's chest. "You know he's going to be up here if we don't get our asses in gear. The man's insatiable." Sam leaned down to steal a kiss from Dean's plush lips.

"Fine," he replied then pushed Dean away and started to pull out. "Let's go take care of Mr. All Business.'

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

Today Dean elected to go for simple beauty. He wore black form fitting slacks and a silk green shirt that blended with his Peridot. The shirt was open at the neck exposing his collar. The fabric clung and flowed. The entire look screamed 'touch me'.

Sam had given him another present before they left the room. He now had a long, thin silver chain that connected to a loop on the bottom of his chocker. The chain ran down his arm to delicate slave jewelry on his left hand. A ring with another small Peridot adorned his ring finger and the chain connected to the ring. Dean looked exotic and dissipated. He was also undoubtedly owned.

Sam decided to play along with Dean's look. His dark slacks were not quite as tight and he wore a soft, white, long sleeve shirt, unbuttoned also at his neck.

The two of them together were fantasy come to life.

Dean walked his pedestals, flipping light switches while Sam sat at a glass topped counter at the side of the room with Andy. They both watched Winchester moving from dark to light checking on all his pretty toys.

"You better be good to him, Sam" Andy said softly. "He's a good guy and he's important to lot of people. He's really needed stability in his life since his father died. Sometimes I wondered and worried about the guys he dragged home with him."

"Don't worry, Andy," was Sam's response. "I'm not out to hurt either him or any of you. I recently lost someone myself and I need Dean as much as he needs me. I'll keep an eye on him."

Sam turned to face Andy more directly. "I would like to know that I can come to you with any problems. You've known him a lot longer than me. You also know where all the bodies are buried."

"I'm also aware that you are checking me out. You're a security minded kind of guy. I appreciate the way you look out for Dean." Sam approved of Andy's quiet investigation. The man had even gone so far as to trace Sam's referrals all the way back to Bobby Singer. The Hunter network had kept Sam aware of every inquiry that Andy had made.

Andy gave Sam a definitive nod and reached out to put a hand on the big guy's shoulder. Nothing more was said as Dean was making his way back to them now. Sam felt that some type of silent agreement had been struck to keep Dean safe.

Dean arrived at the counter with Sam and Andy. He had a clipboard in his hand and was making notes in an open catalogue.

Major items included in this third day of the auction were the Lincoln Daguerreotype, the Demon Killing Knife of the Kurds and the Elf ring. The ring was of questionable provenance but was undeniably beautiful and no expert could say how it had been made or how the cloudy glow under the clear quartz cabochon moved independently of a light source. Unexplained strangeness gave the gem a rare intrinsic value and hints of true magic were always rare and eagerly sought.

He also had one of Crowley's Original Spell Books and letters in H.P. Lovecraft's hand writing to his closest friends: Robert Bloch who wrote _Psycho_, Clark Ashton Smith and Robert E. Howard who wrote _Conan the Barbarian_. Late in life Lovecraft wrote literally thousands of letters but these were originals and they were from one famous author to another, increasing their value. Anything associated with Lovecraft came associated with the smell of the pit.

Scattered throughout the room were small family mementos; one of Dean's personal hobbies. He loved tracking down the lost faces, the lost stories of people forgotten and gone decades ago. There were a number of pictures that had been used in summoning rituals. It was said that hell owned spirits could be called with the pictures if Dean was willing to experiment.

He now fully intended to ask Sam's advice about perhaps performing such a ritual. He wondered if Sam would approve. It seemed unlikely. Sam was more into putting spirits to rest than summoning them. Dean was glad Sam had shown up. He felt instinctively that perhaps summoning hell owned spirits might be somewhat dangerous. He was fully confident his new lover would know the dangers, if any.

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

It was going on one o'clock when Andy decided that Den had done his duty and could be dismissed for a couple of hours.

"Don't you two disappear on me this afternoon." Andy warned the lovers. "Dean needs to mingle more with this crowd. They are going to want to hear the stories that only Dean can spin. The Knife needs to be explained. They need to be convinced that they will be taking a piece of Lincoln home with them. All those little pictures need to have their stories told. The true inward strangeness of that damn ring needs to be made clear."

Dean leaned on Sam's shoulder. "Ok, Andy. I understand. I don't know where you found that whip but I'll be a good boy."

"I think perhaps," Andy said slowly "the two of you might just consider it a good idea to keep your clothes on for the afternoon. It's a little nippy outside out but you might want to go for a walk after lunch. You know; get some kind of exercise not done on a mattress."

"Jealous, Andy?" Dean smiled. "I told you that you should have invited Luke down for the week end. I would have paid for his meals just to keep you sweet and of my butt. I'm sorry but I can't help you out of your bad mood. Sam doesn't like it."

Sam responded to Dean's play by standing up and swatting the blonde's ass. "I warned you, no flirting."

"Ouch." Dean hopped forward away from Sam's heavy hand. "Come on Sam. Not even Andy? Andy's safe. He shakes me off like dust. You're crimping my style and I don't recommend you manhandle me in front of the clients. Some of them won't understand."

"Fine," Sam agreed. "You just remember that I'm going to be taking notes. You'll pay later, I promise."


	10. Chapter 10 - Auction, Day 3

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 10**

**Auction, Day 3**

**From Chapter 9**

_I think perhaps," Andy said slowly "the two of you might just consider it a good idea to keep your clothes on for the afternoon. It's a little nippy outside out but you might want to go for a walk after lunch. You know; get some kind of exercise not done on a mattress."_

"_Jealous, Andy?" Dean smiled. "I told you that you should have invited Luke down for the week end. I would have paid for his meals just to keep you sweet and off my butt. I'm sorry but I can't help you out of your bad mood. Sam doesn't like it."_

_Sam responded to Dean's play by standing up and swatting the blonde's ass. "I warned you, no flirting."_

"_Ouch." Dean hopped forward away from Sam's heavy hand. "Come on Sam. Not even Andy? Andy's safe. He shakes me off like dust. You're crimping my style and I don't recommend you manhandle me in front of the clients. Some of them won't understand."_

"_Fine," Sam agreed. "You just remember that I'm going to be taking notes. You'll pay later, I promise_

**Chapter 10**

Dean stood in the Auction room, reviewing the choice items for Day 3 of his auction:

He had the Lincoln Daguerreotype and the Demon Killing Knife of the Kurds

The Elf ring flickered, casting colored shadows in its velvet case.

Alistair Crowley's Original Spell Book lay open in its case, one of the gorier illustrations exposed.

The letters in Lovecraft's hand writing to his closest friends, Robert Bloch, Clark Ashton Smith and Robert E. Howard_, _spilled out of an authentic for the period letter case.

A softly glowing diadem of pearls was said to have decorated a Greek statue of the Nereid, Thetis, who later gave birth to Achilles. Completely untraceable through the historical record, the diadem did have a long history of dead owners. Anyone who bought that piece of deadly mythology was a brave man.

Scattered here and there were documented pieces of spell work. He had a bowl of black cat bones next to Crowley's spell book. Antique bottles of various colors stood filled with real graveyard dirt. Dried packets of herbs were scattered among the lighted pedestals. Some were even supposed to protect their owners from evil spirts.

Dean smiled. He was going to pass out the herb bundles to buyers like party favors. Some of the new owners of particular pieces would need the protection.

When Sam entered the room the magic in the air had almost grabbed him by the throat. Now he wandered around the lighted pedestals; some of them almost rang with warnings. Sam looked at his lover standing in the middle of the room, gloriously unaware of the various tendrils questing after his sweet flesh.

The Hunter moved to protect Dean Winchester from the spiritual dangers surrounding him. He passed by a small table that had a collection of boxes and dirty cloth bags scattered on it. He knew immediately what he was looking at. Sam knew that these things had no business being exposed to the light of day.

He couldn't even imagine how Dean had got his hands on them. These were essential offerings in a Demon summoning ritual and they should have remained in the cross road dirt where they had been buried. Each item could now be linked to the demon created from the pawned souls.

These talismans were dangerous and evil. They needed to either be burned or returned to their burial sites. Sam preferred that they be burned; a permanent solution to the danger they represented. There were no way that they should be out in the world drawing demons to bond with Dean or Dean's customers.

Sam strode over and pulled Dean into his arms.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean objected. "I'm working here. What the matter with you?"

"Where did you get all these demon deal offerings, Dean?" Sam answered harshly. "Do you have any idea how dangerous these things are?" Sam pointed to the table holding the dirty scraps and pieces of human lives.

Den shrugged out of his lover's hold. "Dealers, Sam. Dealers all over the country know what I'm looking for. They offer fair prices for the pieces and people bring them in. Eventually they end up in my vault. As far as I know, I'm the only reputable source of them for collectors of the occult."

Sam spun Dean around to face him and gripped the blonde's shoulders firmly. "Listen to me, Dean. Each one of these things is linked to the soul of the person who performed the ritual. Most, if not all of them, hell has now twisted into demonic form. You're playing with hellfire, buddy. This has to stop. You're not safe, not safe at all."

Dean looked interested. "I was going to ask you about that. Can we actually use these things to summon a demon? I was thinking about asking you to help me with that."

Sam shook Dean sharply. "No, you idiot. Why the hell would you invite a demon into your world? Your flesh would look like prime rib to these things. Anyone of them would love to ride around in your skin. Your collar provides some protection against possession but I had no idea how reckless you could be. We have to get you inked and sanctified as quickly as possible."

Sam was drained and pale with the strength of his sincerity and Dean was beginning to accept the idea that he had come close to disaster.

"Sorry, Sam." He said. "I had no idea. I'm not a complete fool. I know about the Devils' traps and I know about the power of fire to purify. I thought I could perform the ritual safely. I would never be so stupid as to try it without getting the best advice possible beforehand."

"Do you have that traveling case you carried with you from New York?" Sam asked

"Sure," Dean answered walking around to the back of the glass counter. "It's right here." He handed the case over to Sam.

"We need to turn this into a curse box to holding the demon ritual offerings for a while. I need white paint and an artist's brush."

Dean was immediately interested. He had heard of these curse boxes before although he did not currently own one. "Where did you learn this stuff, Sam?" He picked up his phone to call Andy to find the supplies Sam needed. After finishing with Andy and closing the phone his eyes returned to Sam. "Is there some kind of magic school out there that I should know about?"

Sam carried the case to the table with the little bags and boxes. The inside of Dean's case was filled with well packed slatted foam. Each item could be slid into the foam and isolated from each other. They would stay in place and not roll around. Sam had seen cases like this in gun shops. He started packing the little bits of evil away inside making sure none of them touched.

Finally he decided to answer Dean's question. "I learned this stuff from other people like me. I can't tell you details but trust me; there are people out there who live with this stuff day in and day out." Sam continued packing the items away.

"I'm the only psychic among them, I think. If there is another he's keeping his mouth shut about it too. These people would turn on me if they knew. They don't like anyone or anything that can communicate with the spiritual. I am trusting you with my life telling you about my gift."

Sam finally closed the case and brought it back to the counter.

Dean glanced at the wall clock. "Andy should be here pretty soon and this isn't exactly how I wanted to spend our last few hours before the auction.

Sam laughed. "What? Do you want to go take a walk outside? Andy told us to keep our clothes on; that sort of cuts down on our options."

Just then Andy came through the door. "Did I hear my name mentioned?" he asked. "Here's your paint. What's up?"

Sam took the paint and brush from Andy. He didn't even bother to wonder where Andy had found an artist's brush in a hotel in under fifteen minutes. Andy was Andy. The man took competence to new heights.

He sat down, propped Dean's case upright and started painting the curse box locking symbols on the case, sealing the evil inside. Sam muttered his invocation under his breath as he worked.

Andy was interested. "What's he doing, Dean?"

"He's turning my case into something called a curse box." Dean said calmly. "Sam found some stuff in here he really, really doesn't like. He says the stuff is dangerous."

"Isn't that part of the charm of your auctions, Dean?" Andy asked.

Sam dropped the brush back into the paint and stood up. The case was now decorated with odd looking chains of symbols, matching sets on both the left and right sides of the case.

"That should do it," he said. "Until we have time to follow through with a more permanent solution this should hold them safe."

"Good," Dean said. "Now we're ready for the auction and everyone should come through it safely. I'd like to at least get their money and send them on their way before anything happens. Let's go get an early dinner. Ok?"

_..-.._..-.._..-.._..-.._

After they ate they had come back to the auction room to mingle with Dean's clients. Sam watched as Dean charmed his way around the room, telling stories, showing his pretties off to the interested parties.

Two items attracted the most attention. The Kurd Knife was an esoteric object. Only the most knowledgeable or those deepest into the occult understood the value of what they were looking at. No one was allowed to handle the knife. It stayed in its case.

The Lincoln Daguerreotype was a valuable object that everyone in the room understood. There even were Lincoln collectors on the floor who had no interest whatsoever in the supposed 'magic' of the object.

By nine thirty the last day of the auction was over. The Daguerreotype was the high point. Dean's luck held as the object demonstrated its power by changing aspects during the actual auction. All interested bidders had seen the picture with Lincoln clearly looking out of the scene toward the right hand side. By the time it came up for bidding Lincoln was looking face forward. The collectors nearly came to blows during the last of the bidding war that exploded.

That single set of bids made Dean's auction a success. The Knife was not sold as no one met Dean's reserve. It would go back home with him. He though perhaps he'd give it to Sam for Sam's birthday if they were still together whenever that day came. Sam was the only person that Dean had ever met who could most likely use the knife appropriately.

The Elf Ring went to one of Dean's grandfather's old friends. The man was still just as interested in jewelry as he was when Dean's grandfather was alive. The same man had done some early bidding on the Thetis diadem. Dean was relieved when the old man was outbid by an occultist that Dean wouldn't mind eating the curse. Dean knew the man's wife and if the curse held true in about a year he would be able to get the diadem back. It was not a happy marriage.

The Lovecraft letters were purchased for a small New England library by a local son who had done well and was now giving back to the community. Dean knew the intimate history of those particular letters and wondered if it was possible that the local boy who made good might not have a private axe to grind with his home town. Dean made a mental note to check with the local librarian in the near future to see if the town might not be interested in hiring Sam and Sam's special skills.

The Crowley Spell book went to another knowledgeable occultist that Dean respected. He knew that the book would most likely have its fangs pulled quickly. No fear there of innocents being harmed.

Dean turned over the protective herbal posies to Andy to distribute to the successful bidders when they paid and took possession of their prizes. Dean was certain that most would take the little gifts seriously. They were just as aware of Dean's reputation as he was aware of their own. No explanations were going to be needed.

Finally he and Sam stood and waited for the room to clear. The pedestals were empty and dark. Dean took the Kurd knife with him but everything else, including the locked curse box, were secured with in the room and the doors locked. Dan Applegate was on post outside the doors and so Sam and Dean headed upstairs to bed.

Tonight was their last scheduled night at the Gladstone. Tomorrow there were serious decisions to be made.

Ringaround the rosey  
>A pocket full of posey<br>Ashes ashes  
>We all fall down<p> 


	11. Chapter 11- Is It Love or Lust?

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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

**Hope is the Thing with Feathers **

**Chapter 11**

**Is It Love or Lust?**

**From Chapter 10**

_Finally he and Sam stood and waited for the room to clear. The pedestals were empty and dark. Dean took the Kurd knife with him but everything else, including the locked curse box, was secured within the room and the doors locked. Dan Applegate was on post outside the doors and so Sam and Dean headed upstairs to bed. _

_Tonight was their last scheduled night at the Gladstone. Tomorrow there were serious decisions to be made._

_Ringaround the rosey  
>A pocket full of posey<br>Ashes ashes  
>We all fall down<em>

**Chapter 11**

Once inside their room Dean dropped heavily on his desk chair. He yawned and stretched. His extended hands bumped into something warm, yielding and yet firm behind him. It was Sam. Dean leaned his head over the back of his chair and looked at his lover upside down.

Sam smiled down at the blonde's laughing eyes then, taking hold of Dean's shoulders kissed those sweet plush lips.

"Pretty proud of yourself, are you, Princess?' Sam teased.

Dean smiled even more broadly but still upside down, looking goofy. "You told me I had to make enough money to keep you in style. You can thank Abraham Lincoln for your next fancy dinner, sweetheart."

Sam grinned back. "How about a late night snack, Princess?"

"You talking about food?' Dean grinned back and wiggled his eyebrows.

Sam laughed again. "Yes, I'm talking about food, you pervert. I was thinking about maybe some ice cream and cake. Come to think of it, I bet eating ice cream off your belly would taste pretty good."

Dean slouched down and slid out from under Sam's hands. "Sounds sticky." He stood and backed away from the larger man.

"What's the matter, Princess?" Sam stepped into Dean's space and wrapped his arms around the blonde, pinning Dean's arms to his sides. "I bet I could find a lot of places on your body that I could use as an ice cream dish." Sam leaned in and ran his tongue lightly around the shell of his inamorato's ear. Dean shivered and jerked his head away.

"Calm down, Man Mountain," he snorted while pulling his head away. "We have to decide what happens tomorrow."

"What's important about tomorrow?" Sam breathed heavily into the side of Dean's face and sucked an ear lobe in between his teeth. He could feel Dean shiver all the way down his back. A light bite and Dean's knees started to buckle.

"Stop that," Dean huffed and jerked his head away again.

"Oh, giving orders, are we?" Sam whispered. "You know what happens when you start breaking the rules like that."

Dean smiled that secret smile again and put his arms around Sam's neck. "We definitely have to talk about tomorrow Sam. You're just trying to distract me."

"I don't know, Pretty. What's so important about tomorrow that it's getting in the way of right now?" Sam pulled his lover in for a long, hard kiss. After pulling away and giving Dean enough time to catch his breath Sam went on. "Am I distracting you enough yet? I think it's past time for you to get out of those clothes."

"If I start striping now we'll never talk." Dean pouted. He stepped back out of Sam's reach and put out a arm. "Look, tomorrow I'm heading back to New York. Do you want to come with me or not? We have to make the connecting flight from Raleigh-Durham to New York by three. It's a long ride to the little regional airport to catch the private plane into the major airport so we have to make up our minds tonight. Andy has to arrange the extra tickets; there are arrangements to make. We can't just roll out of bed by noon tomorrow and figure it all out then."

Sam retreated to their favorite rose colored armchair in front of the window and looked out into the night.

Dean stopped talking and went to his lover. Standing between Sam and the window Winchester reached out to run his fingers lightly down Sam's face. Same turned Dean's hand and kissed the palm then guided Dean to stand between his open legs. Dean responded by leaning forward and bracing his hands on the chair back then pressing a kiss on Sam's lips. The longer the kiss went on the further down Dean sunk until he was on his knees, trapped between his lover's legs and holding on. When their lips separated Dean leaned in and laid his head against Sam,

"What's wrong, Sam?" Dean asked quietly. "Am I really just an easy weekend lay? Is it over?"

Sam wrapped one arm around his lover and used the other hand to tilt Dean's face up so that he could look into his eyes. "Dean, it may have started out as an easy lay. We both know now that it has become something more." Sam kissed Dean softly then rubbed his thumb along Dean's jaw line.

"I'm sure as hell going with you. Now that I've found you I'm not going to let you out of my sight. Who knows what you'd get up to or who you'd get up to, you slut. We have some logistics to deal with, like getting someone to drive my car to New York and so on. A guy's got to think of these things before deciding to run off in a completely irresponsible manner with a hot piece he picked up over the weekend. "

Sam reached around and grabbed Dean's ass with both hands. "Now get up off your knees, as good as you look like that, and get your clothes off. I don't want to ruin your beautiful green shirt ripping it off you." Sam let go.

Dean was so happy and relieved that Sam was sticking with him that he decided to do a nice strip tease for his guy. He turned up the hotel's soft elevator music and began with that pretty green shirt. Humming to himself he slowly unbuttoned, fully aware of Sam's eyes following his every move. While working the buttons on the sleeves he kicked off his shoes. Dropping the shirt over the back of the chair he leaned into Sam's mouth and was rewarded with flicks of that talented tongue on his nipples. Sam's hands spanned his waist and long fingers worked his belt loose.

Soon his slacks were sliding down his legs followed by his boxers. Once they were on the floor he kicked them away and was naked in front of a fully clothed Sam. He climbed on his lover's lap. God, but he loved this chair. It fit them both so perfectly. Just as soon as he got home they were going to get one in the apartment, right in front of the big window. He wanted to flash all of New York. He hoped they would enjoy the show because he knew he would.

Sam leaned his head back and studied the naked man in his lap. Dean was so perfect, so beautiful. The Hunter stroked his lover's cheek, kissed the soft, enticing lips and then pushed Dean back on to his feet.

"What do you want, Sam?" Dean asked, confused at being pushed away.

"I just want to look at you for a while. You are amazing." Sam's eyes might be glazed over with lust but he still could see that his lover was a creature of eldritch beauty. Moonlight glided Dean's skin with shadow and ridge. The collar reflected the moonlight and the Peridot glowed faintly. The thin slave chain now hung freely. Released from the confines of a shirt it hung in a delicate curve from the collar latch to the ring on Dean's left hand.

Sam shivered and stood up, holding out his hand for Dean to take. Sam led his lover over to the bed. Dean climbed on, lay back at his ease and watched attentively as Sam began to strip.

Dean just as eagerly stared up at Sam, following each discarded piece of clothing as it hit the floor. The more skin uncovered, the greater Dean's smile grew. He licked his lips looking very much like a cat anticipating dinner. He extended his arm; the fingers just touched Sam's bare leg.

Sam was pleased that Dean seemed to be as fascinated by Sam's body as Sam was fascinated by Dean's. Sam watched as Dean's cock filled and rose. He smiled even more broadly when Dean began to play with his own dick, stroking it lightly.

Finally Sam decided to stop teasing and pressed a knee into the mattress. Leaning forward he captured Dean's lips again. Dean responded by wrapping his arms around Sam's neck and attempting to tug the larger man down.

Finally Sam moved, pushing Dean's legs open with his knees and trapping Dean's hands against the mattress. He leaned in, kissing the blonde while using a knee to massage Dean's crotch. After a long, deep kiss Sam grabbed one of the fat, firm pillows, wrapped an arm around Dean's waist, lifted and shoved the pillow under Dean's ass, raising it up into a more exposed position.

The lube was still on the bedside table. Sam straightened up and sat back on his heels as he reached for the bottle. He slathered it on his fingers all the while looking down at his displayed lover. Dean laid quietly, hands hidden under his pillow. His body was laid out like an offering for his lover to use as he pleased.

Submission burned in Dean's belly just as aggression burned in Sam. Sam's arm was around Dean's waist again as Sam lifted his ass and pressed a long finger past Dean's ring of muscle, opening Dean's body. The second finger followed very quickly and Dean moaned and lifted his knees off the bed. Sam rocked Dean's body and spread his fingers, adding yet another until he felt that the submissive was ready. Sam's dick was leaking and ready for action. Dena had his face buried into one of his own arms. When Sam pushed his dick into the tight, silky channel Dean whimpered and tossed his head back and forth.

Sam held on and pulled Dean's body down harshly. "Like that, do you?" he murmured to his thrashing lover

"Wrap your legs around me, Dean. Hold on tight." Sam ordered then leaned forward on to his hands and gradually built up into a nearly brutal rhythm. .

With every thrust Dean slid up on the bed then followed Sam's cock on the down stroke. Finally Sam fell forward onto Dean and curled his arms under Dean's armpits, wrapped his hands over Dean's shoulders and braced Dean's body for more leverage. The bed thumped and the noise of their coupling filled the room.

Dean's cock was trapped between their bodies and getting all the stimulation Dean could take. He kept his hands compliantly under his pillow. It was not the submissive's job to take any kind of a lead. His job was to lay there and take whatever he was given. Finally the heat in his belly was building up into an explosion and he knew he could not hold on much longer. He began to murmur Sam's name over and over as a warning that he was going to blow. He felt Sam's laugh deep in his belly.

"Don't you worry lover," Sam managed to gasp out. "I'm right there."

Sam' body gave warning as his stokes began to falter and that was all that Dean needed. They hit the wall together, grabbing on tight and burying themselves in each other. Dean actually screamed with his release while Sam went with a series of deep grunts.

After some passage of time; minutes, hours, eternities, they both came back to Earth.

Sam rolled off. Dean dropped his hands back onto his pillow.

"Wow," Dean said quietly and reached out for Sam's body. Sam patted his wandering hand.

"You can say that for me too, Winchester. You are one hell of a lay. I think I'm going to keep you."

Dean laughed. "Really? You think you're going to keep me, do you? Just how are you going to do that? You could buy a leash for my collar, I suppose."

Sam rolled up on his side and traced Dean's sweaty face with a light finger.

"I've been thinking more about a ring for your finger." Sam replied.

Dean froze. "Is that a proposal, Sam?"

"it certainly is, Princess. As they have said for centuries I intend to make an honest woman out of you."

The end

**A/N**: My original concept for this story was the three night auction as a framework for two damaged people to find each other. I always intended to end the story after the third night. The support for the story has been most encouraging but unless I get a lot of requests to follow these guys back to New York and detail the eventual wedding I am going to called this Complete. If you have a different opinion, leave a review and let me know what you would like me to do.

Lee J.

'


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